


Something Borrowed

by QueenModthryth



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Frottage, Gay Panic, Hand Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Rimming, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 09:04:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17805101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenModthryth/pseuds/QueenModthryth
Summary: Michael and Gavin get married so that Gavin can stay in America.





	Something Borrowed

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this fic in early 2014.
> 
> Believe it or not, it was directly inspired by a true story: some years ago, one of my cousins married one of his best friends so that she could stay in the United States. My cousin and a few of his friends drew straws to determine which of them would marry her, and my cousin "won." They had a small, quick wedding that none of the extended family was really invited to. My aunt (my cousin's mom) went to the wedding and was supportive of her son, but was definitely not happy about the whole situation. For months after that, my cousin's wife slept on the couch at my cousin's apartment. But then one day, my aunt visited them, and the couch bed was gone. Eventually, my aunt warmed up to her new daughter-in-law, and she's now very attached to her, and my cousin and his wife are genuinely in love with each other.
> 
> At some point, I realized that I had witnessed an honest-to-god fake marriage subplot happen in real life. Eventually, I got the idea to write this fic. I titled it _"getting fake married for a legitimate reason"_ (as opposed to "getting fake married for a stupid reason").
> 
> And then, shortly after, I saw [this exchange](http://kovicjones.tumblr.com/post/68828554434/we-do-have-lindsay-and-michael-on-the-same-team) happen in a Rooster Teeth video, and I couldn't believe it. Specifically, Gavin saying: _"I'm trying to tip the scales slightly more so he might prefer me over Lindsay eventually. You know I need a green card, so."_ It's not _exactly_ the plot of this fic, but Gavin's clearly at least thought about it (even if only jokingly).
> 
> For the purposes of this fic, Michael and Lindsay were never together, and it happened while Ray was still at Rooster Teeth (although I have also been inspired by content from videos that have been released in more recent years).
> 
> It took me five years to finish this fic, but as of today, International Fanworks Day 2019, it's finally done! Yes, I know, it's years after the Mavin craze was in its heyday, but I'm publishing it anyway.

In the end, there was no great fanfare or competition over it. No played up series of video game battles to garner millions of views. In the end, they simply drew straws.

"Fuck," Michael said when he opened his hand.

Gavin grinned wildly. To Michael's credit, he didn't even punch Gavin when he said, "Looks like it's going to be team Nice Dynamite, eh Michael?" Instead, Michael simply turned around and walked out of the room.

"Is that how you're going to act towards your new fiancé?" Gavin called after him.

Michael flipped Gavin off over his shoulder. He didn't know if Gavin could even see the gesture.

 

* * *

 

"Are you sure you're okay with this, Michael?" Geoff asked, later, as he passed Michael a beer.

Michael shrugged. "I agreed to it beforehand, didn't I?" He grabbed the bottle opener and held it to the cap on the bottle only to discover that Geoff had already opened it for him. "But as much as our youtube commenters think otherwise, Gavin's my friend. And if this is what it'll take for him to be able to stay in the States, then I'll fucking do it."

"Yeah, I'd have volunteered to do it myself in a heartbeat, except I'm already married," Geoff said.

"Geoff, did I hear a hint of regret there? Are you that eager to marry Gavin?" Michael asked.

"Haha," Geoff said, his voice flat.

Of the three of them, Geoff was the only one sober. Michael didn't know where Gavin had gone. Probably to get more booze.

"The marriage only needs to last a couple months or so," Geoff continued. "Well, technically, it needs to only last as long as it takes for Gavin to get his green card, but even if that happens quicker than we think it will, we figure you should at least aim for beating Kim Kardashian. We can fly you out to New York or something to actually fill out the paperwork."

"Yeah, yeah. We went over all of that shit beforehand," Michael said. He took a sip of beer. "But I kind of don't really want to think about it right now, so can we just get trashed?"

"Okay, fine. You and Gavin can get wasted all you want. I'll take you home later, or in the morning, or whenever." Geoff sighed. "I'm kind of still holding off on the booze, but you guys can have as much as you want. It's on the house."

That night, Gavin was the noisiest Michael had ever seen him and then he was the quietest. They talked about nothing, and then Michael woke up on Geoff's couch with a headache and a blanket thrown over him.

 

* * *

 

"Are we ever going to actually talk about it, Michael?" Gavin asked him, once, when they were playing video games in Michael's apartment.

"Talk about what?" Michael asked. He jerked the joystick then laughed and yelled "Bye, Gavin!" as Gavin's Halo character crumpled over on the screen.

"Y'know, the—the sodding wedding." Gavin tossed his controller onto the couch cushion between them.

"What's there to talk about? We're going to fly to New York, sign some papers, fly back, and then you're going to sleep on my couch for a couple months, and then we're going to sign some more fucking papers, and everything will be back to normal."

"Well, what are we going to do when they expect us to, well, snog?" Gavin asked. He didn't turn to look at Michael.

"Gee, I dunno Gavin, what are we going to do?" Michael said. "It's not like either of us really have a choice in the matter."

"Then maybe we should practice," Gavin said quietly. "So that it's not our first time and isn't incredibly awkward when we do it in public."

"I am not nearly fucking drunk enough to be having this conversation," Michael said.

Gavin stood up. He walked into the kitchen. Michael heard a cupboard open, and then the soft chink of glass against glass.

"What the fuck are you doing in there, Gavin?" Michael asked.

"Getting you drunk enough," Gavin said. He emerged from the kitchen with a drink in hand. He offered it to Michael.

Michael glared at it. Then he snatched it out of Gavin's hands and tipped it back, grimacing as the alcohol burned his throat. Gavin produced a second drink in his other hand, and after watching Michael finish his, Gavin attempted to drink his in the same manner. He coughed after it went down, and Michael laughed.

"How about another round while we wait for the alcohol to hit?" Gavin asked, grabbing his controller.

For a few minutes, they yelled and shot at each other in Halo as if it were any other night. By the end of it, Michael's head was definitely a little fuzzy.

"Well, I'm buzzed," Gavin said. "How about you?"

"Yeah," Michael said. He turned to look at Gavin.

Gavin shifted, and then their eyes met. And suddenly, neither of them could move.

Michael blinked. He made a vague attempt to lean forward, froze, and then leaned back. He swallowed, looking away.

"Are you having second thoughts?" Gavin asked.

"Name me one fucking time I've had second thoughts on anything, Gavin," Michael said.

"Uhh," Gavin mumbled.

Before he said anything more, Michael leaned over and closed the gap between them. He hesitated a second before he actually pressed his lips against Gavin's. But then they were so close that he decided he'd rather kiss Gavin and get it over with than sit there staring at him like a dumbfuck.

Gavin was warm, but then why wouldn't he be?

It took a second of awkward surprise before either of them did anything. Gavin made some sort of stupid noise in his throat.

When they parted, both of them had flushed cheeks, and Michael didn't think he could blame the alcohol.

"Well, um, that—that happened," Gavin said.

"If you say anything about Mavin fans, or team Nice Dynamite, I will fucking murder you," Michael said. "None of this will ever be mentioned on twitter, or the podcast, or on any let's play, ever."

"Agreed," Gavin said. They sat at opposite ends of the couch, now.

Michael and Gavin spent the next few hours playing Halo. Michael found it easy to slip into his familiar work persona, filling up the time with empty words of exaggerated anger. Then Geoff arrived to drive Gavin home, and Michael found himself alone in his apartment and utterly exhausted.

 

* * *

 

The next time they talked about it, it was over lunch some days later.

Gavin started to speak, his mouth full of hamburger. "Can you believe it, Michael? You'll have to live with me for weeks. Which means I'll get to come home to lovely home-cooked meals every day."

"We're not talking about this," Michael said immediately. "Just because Ray ditched us like a little bitch doesn't mean it's time to make honeymoon plans." He crossed his arms. "Also, Gavin, you eat home-cooked meals with the Ramseys all the fucking time."

"I'm not _talking_ about it!" Gavin said. "I just tried to make a joke!"

"Yeah, well, we're not joking about this, either," Michael said. "'Cause it's not a fucking joke."

"Isn't it, though, Michael? The whole wedding's a sham. That damn well qualifies it as a joke, I think."

"The difference is that this isn't some cutesy ' _ooh, Micool mah boi_ ' shit, Gavin. This isn't a prank that's going to end up on the next RT Life! It's... well, it's..." Michael felt his train of thought slip away. "God, you look really dumb right now," he said instead, staring at Gavin's look of attempted contemplation.

Gavin broke into an easy grin. "Michael, that's just how my face looks."

"I know. I'm telling you your face looks dumb," Michael said.

Gavin resumed thinking for a moment, and suddenly Michael feared that Gavin would dredge up the wedding topic again. But then Gavin opened his mouth, and what he said was: "Do you think your face knows how it looks?"

Michael laughed. "Wow, do you ever listen to yourself? Oh, there's a question for you, Gavin: Does your face know how it sounds?"

Gavin considered it. "I reckon it doesn't know how it sounds _exactly_. I mean, don't you hear the sound waves that you make differently from everyone else? 'Cause you only hear it after it's vibrated through your skull and all that. That's why your own voice always sounds weird when you listen to a recording of it."

 

* * *

 

When the wedding was still yet weeks away, Michael invited Gavin and Lindsay and Barbara over for dinner and a game of Mario Party. The night was riotous and all good fun until it ended. Barbara and Lindsay left Michael's apartment to head for Barbara's car, but Gavin lingered for a minute.

"What are you doing, Gavin?" Michael asked, holding the door wide open for him.

"Uh, working up the nerve to do this," Gavin said.

"Wha—"

Gavin grabbed Michael and then mashed their lips together. The kiss was over before Michael had time to react, Gavin stepping away and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"What the _fuck_ was that?" Michael said, barely regulating the volume of his voice.

"Practice," Gavin said, smirking. Maybe he'd had more to drink than Michael had thought. "Try to act more into it next time, Michael. It looks a hell of a lot more natural that way."

"Next time?" Michael exclaimed.

"Now Michael, you're not going to convince anyone that you're madly in love with me with that sort of attitude," Gavin said.

"We don't need to do that! We just have to sign a fucking piece of paper!" Michael said. He sighed. "Bye, Gavin."

"I'm not leaving until you give me a kiss," Gavin said, swaying dangerously. "We can't have you freeze up like that at the actual wedding! We need more practice."

Michael glared at him. "Okay, fine," he said. Michael unfolded his arms, but couldn't quite bring his hands up to touch Gavin's face.

"You're doing it, Michael. You're choking," Gavin said.

"Shut up!" Michael said. To his surprise, Gavin obeyed.

Michael took a breath, then in a single movement he reached up and pulled Gavin's face towards him. As his lips touched Gavin's, Michael closed his eyes, just for a couple seconds, until the kiss was over and he could shove Gavin out the door.

"You taste like cheap beer," Michael complained.

"It's _your_ beer!" Gavin protested.

"Get out of my house, Gavin," Michael said.

Gavin grinned. "See you tomorrow, Michael!" He started down the hallway just as Barbara's voice sounded from around the corner: "So what the fuck is taking Gavin?"

Michael closed the door and then briefly leaned against it, massaging his temples in preemptive response to the headache he was on the cusp of developing.

 

* * *

 

The next time was in the Achievement Hunter office. Everyone else had left to go to lunch, and Gavin and Michael were the last ones in the room. They both started walking towards the closed door, but then Michael slowed down, and Gavin slowed, and then they were both standing near the doorway.

Michael knew that he'd lose the nerve if he didn't do this now, so he started to lean towards Gavin—

"Cameras," Gavin breathed.

"What?" Michael said.

"There's often cameras hidden in the office. What if someone's got one set up now?" Gavin said.

Michael scanned the room, glancing in all of the places people had hidden cameras before. Then he turned back towards Gavin and shrugged. "It's not like they don't know. And besides, that was already incriminating enough. So fuck it," Michael said.

Then he pulled Gavin in for a quick kiss. It was easier when he closed his eyes, he'd discovered. Easier to forget that he was kissing _Gavin_.

"Was that any better? Or did I fuck that one up, too?" Michael asked.

Gavin frowned, considering it. Then he smiled. "Definitely getting more convincing, I think. Very casual."

"' _Oh, I think you're tippy top_ ,'" Michael mocked. When Gavin didn't say anything in response, he said: "Okay, what dumb thought is going through your head now?"

"Hypothetically," Gavin started, pausing when Michael groaned loudly. "If we were honestly in a relationship, which one of us would be on top?"

"I thought I said we weren't going to joke about this!" Michael said.

"You just made a Mavin joke today while we were filming!" Gavin protested.

"That was for the fans, dumbass! I meant no joking about it outside of work!"

 

* * *

 

The kissing definitely got better. But not before it got worse. On one memorable occasion, Michael and Gavin both leaned in at the same time and ended up banging their heads together. They both pulled back and muttered a few choice curse words, and then they tried again. Softer, this time.

Michael learned that the drunker Gavin got, the sloppier his kisses. And the drunker Michael got, the less he cared.

They were almost caught twice: once by Geoff when he walked into Gavin’s house without a warning, and once by Lindsay when she arrived back from a beer run sooner than expected. Both times, Michael and Gavin were standing a little too close, sharing oxygen and not quite looking each other in the eye. Neither Geoff nor Lindsay noticed anything amiss.

It became almost a special greeting. A secret handshake. A _very_ secret handshake, because if anyone from work knew that they were doing it, they’d get mocked for the rest of their careers.

But if Michael was honest about it—though let’s be real, he wasn’t—he didn’t actually mind kissing Gavin. Gavin wasn’t a bad kisser, and as long as Michael wasn’t letting himself think about it, he almost enjoyed it.

 

* * *

 

Then the wedding day arrived.

Most of the actual event was a blur. The formalities were dry and boring; Michael’s mother was there, but was clearly having a difficult time hiding her thinly veiled displeasure; Geoff and Burnie and Ray and everyone else cracked bad jokes and acted like nothing unusual was happening.

But Michael remembered the kiss.

This would be the last time he kissed Gavin. The thought should be a relief, but instead it made Michael feel nervous and almost a little regretful. This was it. This was what they’d been practicing for. After the wedding is done, there would be no more need to “practice.”

So, when it was time, Michael turned toward Gavin and decided that they’d better make this one a good one.

Their lips met, and it was _perfect_. Just that right amount of familiar and uncertain, lingering long enough that it was good, but not so long that it made anyone uncomfortable. He kissed Gavin like he really meant it, and it was the best damn acting Michael had ever done in his life.

When they separated, both of them were blushing, and it was awkward, but Gavin had a bigger smile on his face than Michael had ever seen before, and everyone was clapping and cheering, and Michael found himself smiling, too.

They flew back home, and then Burnie got them both really drunk, and the next thing Michael knew, he was waking up in his apartment with a killer hangover, and when he walked out of his room, Gavin was passed out on his couch, and suddenly everything was all very real.

 

* * *

 

"Hey, Gavin, if you don't get up now, you're going to be late for work," Michael said, leaning over the couch.

Gavin mumbled something, his words muffled by blankets and sleep. Then his eyes snapped open. He made a strangled sound and sat straight upright, drowsy and disoriented.

"Wait, no I'm not," Gavin said. "Geoff gave us the day off." He glared at Michael, who was doubled over laughing.

Gavin leaned back. "If this is what being married to you is going to be like, then I want a divorce," he said, pulling the blankets back over him. "I'll marry Burnie instead. Or Lindsay."

"I made breakfast," Michael said, gesturing towards the kitchen. "If you want some."

Gavin instantly perked up. "Really?" he said. "That's top. Thanks, boi!" He flung off the blankets and swung his legs over the side of the couch.

On the counter, a pan of freshly cooked sausages sizzled next to a plate of pancakes. Michael got out two plates and two sets of utensils. They divided up the food, and then sat at Michael's small table to eat it. Neither of them talked much as they stuffed the food into their mouths.

"So, what do you want to do today?" Michael asked.

Gavin made a face. "I suppose I should probably finish moving the rest of my crap into your apartment."

 _Oh, right. Moving_. Michael sighed. It was going to be a long day.

 

* * *

 

The long day turned into a long weekend. It was harder work than either of them had anticipated, and even with Geoff and Griffin's help, it left Michael and Gavin utterly exhausted at the end of each day. Thankfully, Michael didn't own a lot of stuff, so it wasn't much of a problem to fit Gavin's shit in Michael's apartment.

Michael tried to remind himself that living with Gavin meant that his rent was about to get significantly cheaper, but even so, he had a difficult time convincing himself that it would be worth it.

But sometimes, when Gavin was passed out on his couch, or was doing something else that almost made him seem endearing, Michael would forget to be annoyed at him. After all, they were friends for a reason. 90% of the time, Michael really did enjoy being around Gavin. And Gavin had such a stupid expression on his face when he slept, and his hair would stick up at weird angles, and—

"Are you watching me sleep?" Gavin mumbled.

"You look dumb," Michael said.

Gavin made a face at him. It made him look even stupider, and Michael laughed.

The blanket moved, and Gavin's hand emerged from underneath it. He had his middle finger extended.

"Goodnight, Gavin," Michael said.

"Fuck you," Gavin said, with equal parts sleepiness and affection.

 

* * *

 

Most nights, Michael cooked dinner. On the nights that Michael didn't cook, they got food somewhere else, because Gavin was absolutely useless in the kitchen. Michael took to chasing him out by brandishing a wooden spoon.

One day, Gavin had gone out to get drinks with Geoff after work, so Michael had the kitchen to himself without any annoying Brits underfoot. He made dinner for himself, then ate it on the couch and watched a movie.

As the credits scrolled, Michael heard the lock clumsily turn in the door to his apartment.

A very drunk Gavin entered his apartment. Gavin spotted him, and broke into a grin. "Micoo!" he greeted. "I missed you!" He started to walk towards Michael.

Michael sighed. "Hey, Gavin," he said. He maneuvered around Gavin and stepped into the kitchen. He opened a cabinet and retrieved a glass, then brought it over to the sink and turned on the faucet.

"What are you doing?" Gavin's voice came from just over his shoulder.

"Getting you a glass of water," Michael said.

When he turned around, Gavin was standing right there. The last time they'd stood this close to each other had been on their wedding day. Michael stared dumbly at him, momentarily forgetting how to function like a normal fucking human being.

"Thanks," Gavin said. He reached to take the water, but before he did, he leaned in and pressed his lips against Michael's like they were still doing that.

To Michael's credit, he didn't drop the glass.

Then Gavin was walking back to the couch, and Michael was standing there with his hand still extended, completely struck dumb.

By the time Michael recovered, Gavin was already snoring. The water glass sat untouched on the table beside him.

They didn't talk about it. Michael wasn't honestly sure if Gavin even remembered it. It had been brief, inconsequential, really, and Gavin had been wasted. And afterward, everything kept going as it had been going, except Michael couldn't stop thinking about that damn kiss.

 

* * *

 

Just when he finally thought he’d managed to purge the memory, something happened that brought it right back up again. Like vomit, really. He just couldn’t keep it down.

This time, Gavin was stone cold sober, and he came into the apartment with an almost visible dark cloud over his head, exuding sadness or anger or perhaps a mix of the two, a volatile cocktail of emotion bottled up inside of him. Michael had no fucking idea what was going on.

Gavin practically collapsed on the couch, tipping his head back and rubbing at his face.

Michael wanted to ask what had happened, but didn’t want to dredge up anything that would make Gavin’s mood worse, so he stayed quiet.

“Well, that was a fucking shit hell of a day,” Gavin said, his voice muffled by his hand.

“Anything I can do to help?” Michael asked, glancing at him. If Gavin wanted to talk about it, Michael would listen. If Gavin wanted to get shitfaced, then Michael would pour them both drinks. He’d do whatever he could do to help within the capacity of their friendship.

Gavin dropped his hand from his face. He turned toward Michael, his face dark, expression unidentifiable. “Just… distract me,” he said. “Please.”

“Okay.”

And Michael had no fucking clue what possessed him to do it, but he followed the first impulse his gut told him to do and leaned over and kissed him.

Gavin made a sound against his lips. He deepened the kiss immediately, his hands going up to Michael’s face.

They kissed, and kissed, and kissed.

Minutes ticked past, hours, maybe, countless seconds falling away under the gentle pressure of Gavin’s lips, and the ghost of his hands on Michael’s skin.

Eventually, Michael pulled away. He leaned back into the couch, breathing hard.

“Want to watch a movie?” he asked.

Gavin nodded. His lips were very red. Michael tore his eyes off them and focused instead on the television.

They watched some sub-par action flick, and neither of them put in any commentary. By the time the credits scrolled, Gavin was lying down on the couch, his feet on Michael’s lap, his eyes heavy.

Michael patted Gavin’s legs, then carefully extricated himself out from underneath them. He picked up the blanket, then unceremoniously draped it over Gavin.

“Thank you,” Gavin said, his voice hushed. He looked up at Michael, and there was true and genuine gratitude shining in his eyes, and the feeling was so big and real, Michael hardly knew what to do with it.

So he just said, “Goodnight, Gavin,” then turned and walked into his bedroom.

 

* * *

 

They didn’t talk about that kiss, either, though Michael was certain that they both remembered it. Sometimes, Gavin got this look on his face, like he was going to bring it up, or maybe even kiss Michael again, but he never followed through with it, and eventually, Michael was back to ignoring it like he’d been doing before.

Then one night, they invited Barbara and Lindsay over for Mario Party only to have both women cancel on them hours before it was supposed to happen.

“Fuck it,” Michael said, shrugging. “We can play without them.”

So Gavin got out the bevs, and Michael set up the game, and they both sat down on the couch to play.

The problem with playing Mario Party with just Gavin is that Michael always won and Gavin always lost. Michael decided to give himself a handicap and set up a team game, pairing himself with Gavin against two CPUs on the hardest difficulty.

At the beginning, Michael and Gavin took a clear lead, but as the bevs caught up with them, and as the CPUs had a run of incredibly unfair minigame victories, their early lead slipped, and by the final turn, they were in a firm last place.

“There’s still the bonus stars, Michael!” Gavin said optimistically.

“We definitely have the shopping star, and I think we have the special space star, but the minigame one’s going to be a close one, Gav,” Michael said.

“We’re just going to have to win this last minigame, then,” Gavin said, determined. “If we win, that’ll at least put us ahead in coins.”

But he was giggling helplessly as the minigame started, which is never a good sign. Somehow, though, despite all odds, Gavin managed to scrape a victory.

Both he and Michael were shouting with surprise and joy.

Their shouting got even louder when the final results were announced, and they barely managed to edge out the team of CPU’s.

Michael checked the stats. They’d won the minigame bonus star by just ten coins.

He turned toward Gavin. “I can’t believe you did it, you fucker,” he said, fondly.

Then they leaned forward at the same time and mashed their lips together. Right away, this kiss was different from all of the rest. In the haze of victory and alcohol, Michael didn’t know which one of them took it further, but whoever did, the other eagerly followed.

At some point, Michael's lips were on Gavin's neck, and Gavin let out a sound in his ear that was nothing short of a moan, and Michael shivered with it, drunk and aroused and way too out of it to stop. His memory got hazy, after that.

He woke up at ass o'clock in the morning, fully clothed in his own bed, lying on top of the covers. He could hear Gavin snoring in the living room. Also, Michael's dick was hard. His knee-jerk reaction was relief, because it meant that he hadn't come in his pants while he was kissing Gavin. He stumbled into the bathroom to brush his teeth and take care of the boner, then he crawled back into bed and passed out.

 

* * *

 

He realized, later, in the morning, that what they’d been doing had transcended the realm of kissing and was properly called making out.

Maybe this fact should have bothered him more than it did. But whatever that kiss was, it blew the floodgates wide open. Every inhibition that Michael had regarding exchanging saliva with Gavin was gone.

They kissed when they got home from work, before bed, in the morning, whenever either one of them damn well felt like it—just so long as it was at home, away from the prying eyes of fans or coworkers or anyone who might see them and assume that this was something other than what it was.

Gradually, Michael catalogued the shape of Gavin’s lips, the feel of his tongue, the sound his breath made when they kissed.

He chalked it up to loneliness, or horniness, maybe. A need for having another warm body near him. But regardless of the reasons behind it, he genuinely enjoyed kissing Gavin. Or rather, he enjoyed the endorphin rush he got from kissing Gavin. It just felt good. And that was all the reason he needed to justify it.

One week, Gavin left to go back to England for a significant stretch of time. Michael spent the days leading up to it looking forward to getting a break from him, loudly rejoicing Gavin's upcoming absence whenever he was in the office, much to Gavin's clear resentment. But the morning Michael woke up to a Gavin-free (hah) apartment, he felt a weird lump of emptiness settle within him. He kept expecting Gavin to be on his couch, or using up all the hot water in the bathroom, or bothering him when he tried to cook. But Michael was alone.

His joy quickly turned sour, and it took every effort he had not to show it while he was at work.

He started spending more and more time out of his apartment, hanging out at other people's houses, going out to bars, generally trying to deny the crushing loneliness he was experiencing. One night, he tried picking up a girl, but when she kissed him, he just thought of kissing Gavin, and how Gavin was a better kisser than she was, and then the thought of Gavin was enough of a turn-off that he didn't feel like having sex anymore.

The night Gavin arrived back in the states, Michael drove to the airport to get him. Gavin flew often enough and was wealthy enough, he often just got a taxi, but Michael had nothing else going on that night, so he volunteered to do it himself.

He waited impatiently, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Then he spotted Gavin, a slim figure standing on the sidewalk with a look of vague confusion that was Gavin's default expression, and Michael's face melted into a grin. He pulled the car up to the curb, then got out, and before he knew it, he was wrapping his arms around Gavin and they were kissing. It was the first time they'd kissed in public besides the wedding.

"I missed you, boi," Gavin said, after they'd parted.

"Yeah, well..." Michael trailed off. He opened the back of his car and loaded in Gavin's luggage. Then they were off, headed back home.

As they drove, Gavin talked about Dan, the Slo Mo Guys, and everything he'd done in England, and Michael updated him on what he'd missed at work, and what his other friends had been up to here in Austin, and he couldn't believe that he'd actually missed the sound of Gavin's stupid voice.

Gavin was practically falling asleep on his feet by the time they arrived back at Michael's apartment. Michael deposited Gavin's luggage beside the couch, then started to head towards the bedroom, but Gavin reached out and caught his arm. Michael turned, and then Gavin was kissing him again, soft and tender, and Michael felt his eyes flutter closed.

"Goodnight, Michael," Gavin said, after they’d parted.

"Night, Gavin." Michael patted Gavin on the shoulder, then walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

Several weeks into the marriage, Michael's horniness was threatening to drive him absolutely up the wall. Even kissing Gavin was enough to get him to pop a boner, especially if tongues, necks, or alcohol were involved. Michael's jerk-off fantasies took a turn for the weird and uncomfortable, his mind trying to insert images of Gavin where he really didn't belong.

He wanted to broach the topic of seeing other people to Gavin, but talked himself out of it because he didn't want to jeopardize the public legitimacy of their marriage, and also it wasn't like Gavin could really bring anyone else home, so it felt unfair.

Eventually, inevitably, it all came to a head.

Michael woke up, one morning, on his couch. He felt gross and groggy, and there was a large, heavy weight resting on his body. The weight shifted and muttered something in its sleep, and Michael's eyes flew open.

Gavin was sleeping on top of him.

Or rather, Gavin was currently in the process of waking up on top of him.

"Morning, Michael," Gavin said, voice still a little heavy with sleep.

"Get off," Michael said. "Thanks to you, my whole body is asleep."

"Well, not your _whole_ body," Gavin said, casually.

He shifted a little, and Michael was suddenly extremely aware that his dick was hard and pressing up into Gavin's stomach, and also that _Gavin's_ dick was hard and pressing into Michael's leg. And he knew that Gavin was also aware of these things, and yet had made no move to get off of him.

Michael sat up, sliding out from under Gavin. They both hissed as the other's body brushed against their cocks. Then, once free of Gavin, Michael turned and pushed Gavin down onto the sofa, climbing on top of him.

Gavin made a pleased sound in his throat, his arms coming up to snake around Michael, pulling him closer.

Michael's lips touched the skin at Gavin's neck, and at the same time, his hips came down over Gavin's, and their clothed erections brushed against each other, and both of them let out a shuddering gasp. Experimentally, Michael ground against him a bit, and Gavin let loose a string of expletive-laden gibberish.

Rutting against Gavin felt nothing like any of the women Michael had been with. But _god_ , did it feel good. Michael lost himself in it. Soon, too soon, he came in his sweatpants, the sensation wet and sticky and disgusting, and he felt Gavin come shortly after as he panted in Michael's ear.

For a long moment, they simply lay there on top of each other, cum cooling rapidly in their underwear. Michael felt looser and more relaxed than he'd felt in months.

He sat up off of Gavin, then got to his feet. "I call first shower," Michael said, grinning.

Gavin squawked in indignation.

 

* * *

 

They didn't talk about it, and it didn't change their working relationship, or make things weird between them. They simply went about the rest of their day as normal.

But that night, Michael started to walk into the bedroom, and Gavin started to make his bed on the couch, and Michael stopped in the doorway. He turned around.

"There's enough room for you in here, if you want," he said, figuring that after having gotten each other off, they might as well share a bed. He blushed and hoped that it wasn't visible in the dark.

Gavin followed him into the bedroom, his eyes a little wide.

Michael got into bed on the side he preferred. Gavin slipped under the covers on the other side.

"Thanks," Gavin said. He moved across the distance between them and kissed Michael, briefly. As soon as he pulled away, he was back, kissing Michael in earnest. His hands went to Michael's chest, then started to slip lower.

Michael didn't stop him when Gavin's hand cupped the front of Michael's boxers. He just scooted closer, and reached for Gavin in turn.

Touching Gavin's dick, even through fabric, felt weird. Unlike the morning, when he'd had the haze of sleep clouding his judgement, Michael couldn't stop thinking about what he was doing. He was holding another man's penis. But, _oh_ , what Gavin's fingers were doing felt nice. Michael's eyes fluttered closed. He worked his hand into Gavin's boxers, then grasped Gavin's dick directly, and gently started pumping it.

Gavin came first, this time. Michael felt the cum ooze onto his hands, and then he was coming himself, moaning into Gavin's mouth.

They cleaned themselves up. When they settled back into bed, Gavin was perhaps a little closer to Michael than Michael would have preferred, but after that handjob, Michael wasn't going to complain.

He slept easily and deeply, more comfortable than he'd been in months.

When he awoke, Gavin was awake and staring at him, and it didn't feel weird, actually.

Michael made them both breakfast.

 

* * *

 

Having Gavin in his bed took some getting used to, but less than Michael had thought. He'd never really lived with any of his previous girlfriends, so he wasn't used to sharing a bed with someone day in and day out, and occasionally, he got tired of Gavin's face, and tired of his voice, and longed to have some privacy again.

Not that there weren't certain... advantages to the new arrangement, though. Like, free handjobs almost every night, as well as some mornings.

But there was one disadvantage that Michael had failed to consider until it almost got both of them into trouble: if Gavin wasn't clearly and obviously sleeping on the couch, then other people visiting Michael's apartment might start to suspect something.

This did not occur to Michael until Lindsay and Barbara were over, and Barbara took one look at the couch, and said, "Wow, I can't believe it, Gavin actually cleaned up all his shit for once!" And sure enough, the messy pile of blankets and clothing that normally surrounded the couch were gone, due to the fact that the mess had relocated itself along with Gavin to Michael's bedroom.

"I told him if he didn't shape up, I'd divorce him," Michael said, employing the joking threat as a distraction.

It worked.

"Hey!" Gavin said, offended.

Barbara and Lindsay laughed, taking a seat on the couch.

 _Crisis averted_. Michael relaxed.

In all honesty, he and Gavin actually _had_ fought over Gavin's tendency toward messiness. The fight had ended with Michael allowing Gavin his half of the bedroom to be messy, and then that was it. He had to keep his things relatively orderly in the bathroom, the living room, and the walk-in closet. For the most part, Gavin stuck to the bargain. And Michael didn't get too angry at him if the mess started to seep out of the bedroom, because every time he complained about it, Gavin was quick to clean it up. Gavin had clearly realized that this was one thing that Michael was unwilling to compromise further on, and by unspoken agreement, neither of them were willing to let this be the conflict that ruined their friendship.

Other than that one close call, the girls did not suspect that anything in Michael and Gavin's relationship had changed. No one else at work did, either.

 

* * *

 

"We should've started doing this fucking _ages_ ago," Michael said, as Gavin bent down to lick his nipple, his slicked hand working Michael's cock.

Gavin hummed his agreement.

Michael would prefer to be fucking a woman, but as long as he had to be married to Gavin, he might as well get some orgasms out of it. And the orgasms were only getting better. Gavin was a quick study, as it turned out. Also, none of the women Michael had been with had matched him in horniness levels, whereas Gavin was equally if not _more_ horny than Michael, which meant that he never turned down a handjob exchange.

They hadn't progressed beyond handjobs. Which were really, if you thought about it, basically just one step above jerking off. Though a handjob was infinitely better than jerking off. Michael hadn't thought once about trying to pick up a girl ever since he and Gavin had started getting each other off.

In the afterglow—though Michael refused to call it that—they lay beside each other in Michael's bed, naked, dicks spent and flaccid.

And then Gavin asked, "Next time, want to stick it in my bum?"

"What?" Michael sat up.

Gavin glanced up at him. "I meant exactly what I said. Next time, do you want to put your cock in my arse?"

"Uh..." Michael's immediate knee-jerk reaction was _no, fuck no_ , but that was quickly overshadowed by the large part of him that wanted _very_ much to do exactly that, so as the two halves of him warred, _uh_ was the best he could manage.

Thankfully, Gavin didn't press him. He didn't even bring it up again later. But now that it _had_ been brought up, Michael couldn't get it out of his mind. He imagined Gavin's ass would feel so deliciously tight around his dick. Maybe even better than a wet, tight pussy. None of Michael's previous girlfriends had been into anal, so he'd never gotten to try it before.

The next night, Michael turned to Gavin and asked, "Hypothetically, how would you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Stick a dick in your ass."

Gavin grinned at him. He got out of bed and walked into the living room, then came back with his laptop. He kicked back in bed beside Michael, then opened his laptop and typed the url _pornhub.com_ into the browser. Then he clicked on the "gay" category.

Michael's eyes bugged out. "Wh—what are you doing?" he asked.

"Looking for a visual aid," Gavin said. He scrolled down a bit, then clicked on a video.

Michael's heart started beating very hard and very loud. "I didn't realize you made a habit of watching gay porn," he said, his voice coming out weird.

Gavin shrugged. "Haven't you ever gotten curious?" he asked.

"No," Michael said.

He stared at the two men in the video. It was titled _Twinks Fucking_ , and boy did it live up to its title. There was at least twice as much dick as Michael wanted to see. And then one of the dicks went into the other man's ass, and Michael felt his _own_ dick perk up.

He glanced over at Gavin, and saw that Gavin's cock was hard and in his hand, and Gavin was biting the corner of his lip and staring at the video.

 _Fuck it_ , Michael thought. He unzipped his jeans and plunged his hand into his underwear.

When he came, it was the least satisfying orgasm he'd had in months. By far the worst one he'd had with Gavin, though Gavin was merely present for it and not an active participant. Afterward, Michael felt a spiral of guilt swirling around his head, and he slept facing away from Gavin, doing everything he could to stop thinking of dicks going into asses.

The next day, he googled how to have anal sex.

 

* * *

 

They were kissing when he broached the question. Michael was straddling Gavin, his pants still on, and Gavin's hand was in the process of snaking between his thighs, and Michael said, "Let's do it."

Gavin's hand stopped moving. "Do what?" he asked.

"You know," Michael said. He sat back on his knees, Gavin's legs underneath him.

"Okay," Gavin said. "The lube's in my nightstand."

He watched as Michael crawled over to get it.

"Should we... condoms?" Gavin asked, hesitant.

"I'm clean," Michael said. "And hopefully you are, too, because I've been putting my hand on your dick for months."

Gavin nodded. "I got myself checked right after we got married and I knew I wouldn't be getting any. But if we end up doing this again—" He stopped talking.

Michael froze, realizing what Gavin was asking. Then his brain caught up with the first part of the sentence. "Wait, you haven't done anything with anyone else since we got married?" he asked. It wasn't as if Gavin had had ample opportunity to hook up with anyone, but if he'd really wanted to, he could've found a way to get laid.

Gavin shook his head. "Have you?" he asked.

"Well, no," Michael said. "I mean, I kissed a girl while you were in England that one time, but—"

Gavin laughed. He reached up and twined his fingers in Michael's hair, then pulled him down for a kiss. "If you won't, I won't fuck anyone else until after we're divorced," Gavin said.

"Deal," Michael said. He sat up, then shimmied out of his jeans, discarding them on the floor. He popped the cap off of the lube.

Gavin let out a breath.

"Get on your hands and knees," Michael said. "Bitch," he added.

Gavin obeyed the order, presenting his bare ass to Michael. He turned to look curiously over his shoulder.

Michael squirted a big glob of lube into his hand, coating his finger with it. It felt cold, but quickly warmed to his touch. Then he reached for Gavin's ass, spread the cheeks a little, then plunged his finger straight in.

And just like that, Gavin dissolved into gibbering incoherence. He leaned back into Michael's finger, fucking himself on it.

"Fuck," Michael whispered, in awe. He wiggled his finger a bit, and Gavin made a keening whine.

Michael slipped his finger out of Gavin, and Gavin started to protest, but then Michael stuck _two_ fingers in him, which shut him up immediately. The silence was short-lived, however, because Gavin was back to uttering a stream of swears and moans. He'd never been particularly quiet when Michael had a hand on his dick, but he'd never been quite this _loud_ before. It was like Michael's fingers had activated a sleeper cell, except instead of a spy, this was—okay, it was a bad metaphor.

Just as Michael was starting to imagine how Gavin's ass was going to feel clamped around his dick, he felt Gavin clench, and then just like that, Gavin was coming, ropes of cum shooting from his dick onto the sheets underneath him, his dick completely untouched.

"Holy fuck," Michael whispered.

Michael pulled his fingers out, and Gavin honest-to-god _whimpered_.

"I didn't even get to stick my cock into you," Michael complained.

"Sorry," Gavin said, his voice absolutely wrecked. He turned and flopped over on his back, looking up at Michael. He spread his legs, and it was an invitation.

Michael took it. He scooted up between Gavin's legs, his own cock in his hand, and closed his eyes and imagined that his hand was Gavin's ass. It didn't take long before he, too, was coming, spilling on Gavin's stomach, on his spent cock.

Then Michael sunk onto the bed beside Gavin, breathing hard.

"Did you know that you have a thing for butt stuff?" Michael asked.

"I'd... suspected," Gavin said.

"Because that's—you have a full-blown fetish, dude." Michael laughed.

Gavin reached over and shoved at him, weakly. "Shut up," he said. "Just wait until that's your cock in me. Then we'll see who's complaining."

"If you can even last long enough for me to get my cock into you," Michael mumbled. He knew that they were both sticky and disgusting, that the bed was sticky and disgusting, too, but at the moment, he felt too blissed out and too sleepy to give a shit.

After a minute, he felt Gavin get up out of bed. A couple minutes later, Gavin returned, avoiding the wet spot. He lay down on the side of it that was closer to Michael, leaving almost half of the bed unoccupied.

They were almost touching. Only about an inch of space separated them. Michael could feel Gavin's breath on his skin, warm and wet. It should've bothered him. It didn't.

 

* * *

 

The next time went better.

Michael got two fingers in Gavin, and Gavin didn't immediately come. By three fingers, though, Gavin was muttering a litany of words that went something like: " _Fuck Michael just put it in me shit fuck I want your cock I need it fuck fuck fuck_."

Michael hastily withdrew his hand. He stared down at Gavin's opened asshole. His dick twitched, producing a drip of precum.

"Okay, turn over," Michael said.

"Sorry?"

"Get on your back," Michael said. "I want to do it that way." He wanted to see the goddamn stupid faces that Gavin made as his mouth spouted off nonsense. He wanted to see the look on Gavin's face when he came harder than he'd ever come in his life, because Michael's cock was going to do that to him.

Gavin turned onto his back. He stared up at Michael, eyes dark with arousal, his lips teased red.

Michael propped himself up with one arm, his other hand going to his own dick. He guided it towards Gavin's hole. Then he thrust forward, and his cock slid home.

"Fuck," Michael said.

Below him, Gavin moaned and writhed, his hands gripping Michael, pulling him closer. The pressure around Michael's cock was so tight and hot, for a moment, he thought he was going to lose it right then and there.

He felt Gavin's legs wrap around him, and he gave an experimental thrust, and both of them gasped with it.

Gavin was babbling again, though Michael didn't have enough brainpower to even try and interpret words out of the syllabic mess. He stared down at Gavin's face as he thrust, and as stupid as Gavin looked, Michael didn't even think to laugh at him, because he was too much in awe of how reactive he was to every single movement, every touch.

Gavin looked up at him and met his eyes, just for a moment, and he breathed out his name, "Michael," and then he was coming, dick shooting all over his chest.

Two more thrusts, and Michael was coming, too, pumping Gavin's ass full of it.

He pulled out with a wet squelch, then collapsed on top of Gavin. Below him, Gavin was trembling. When Michael's brain came back to him enough for him to be aware of what was happening around him, he caught Gavin wiping away a tear. Michael said nothing about it. He didn't want Gavin to feel embarrassed.

After they'd lain there for a few minutes, Gavin's arm came up, almost hesitantly, and curled around Michael.

"Well, that was..." Michael started, his voice raw. "Fucking incredible, actually." His face was buried in the space between Gavin's neck and shoulder.

Gavin laughed, weakly. "Told you it'd be top," he murmured.

Michael started to get up, and Gavin made a sound of protest, tightening his arm around him.

"I'm just getting a towel. Jesus," Michael muttered. "I'll be back in a bit."

He stumbled into the bathroom, then fetched something to clean them both with. Well, mostly Gavin, since he'd gotten the double hit of cum on/in him.

He returned with a damp towel, passing it off to Gavin. As Gavin cleaned himself, Michael stared at him.

"Are you—was that okay?" Michael asked, hesitant.

"What?" Gavin looked up to glance at him.

"Does your ass hurt?"

"Yeah. A little," Gavin admitted. "A good hurt, though." He smiled, laying back down.

Michael sighed and climbed back into bed. All he wanted to do was sleep for a million years. Then, after that, he wanted to fuck Gavin again. But tonight, he succumbed to the heaviness in his eyelids, letting them flutter closed.

"Michael?" Gavin asked.

"Hmm?" Michael opened his eyes to look over at him. Gavin's face beside his was a shadowed blur in the night.

"Thank you," Gavin said.

Then he moved closer, and ever so gently pressed a kiss against Michael's lips.

When Gavin settled back down, he was almost in Michael's arms, his bare chest resting partially on Michael's bare chest. Michael had never particularly been one for cuddling, but right now, he really just didn't give a shit and couldn't be assed to move, so he just let it happen. Gavin was asleep almost immediately, snoring lightly into Michael's neck, his chest rising and falling. Soon, he lulled Michael to sleep, too.

 

* * *

 

A few weeks later, Gavin and Michael went out with some friends to a bar. It was a fairly quiet night, all things considered. Michael was lightly buzzed and enjoying himself when Geoff said, "Hey, you could probably go home with that chick if you wanted to." He pointed at some girl across the room, whom Michael had caught making eyes at him several times already that night. He'd wondered if she was possibly a fan.

"Nah, I'm good," Michael said, taking a sip of his beer.

"Really?" Geoff asked, incredulous. "When was the last time you got laid?"

 _Last night_ , Michael thought, but didn't say. A memory of Gavin spread out on his bed flashed in his mind. "I just don't want to jeopardize Gavin's green card," Michael said. "I can hold off on sleeping with women for another few months."

Had that been a weird way to phrase it? Would Geoff wonder why he'd specified _sleeping with women_?

The answer to the second question, at least, was a resounding _ha, fuck no_ , because Geoff just shook his head and said, "You're a far stronger man than me."

Gavin wandered over to their table, back from having left to take a piss. He slid into the booth beside Michael, a wide, drunk grin on his face. "Michael, boi, want to dance?" he asked.

"With you? Never," Michael said, laughing. But Gavin was insistent, yanking on his arm, so Michael rolled his eyes and then let himself be dragged out onto the dance floor.

Both of them were terrible, awful dancers. Gavin only lasted a handful of minutes before he got bored of it and wandered off. Michael just smiled after him and shook his head, then returned to his drink.

"I'm glad it hasn't ruined your friendship," Geoff said.

"Huh?"

"The, y'know—" Geoff leaned closer and lowered his voice, "—the marriage," he said. "I'm glad that living with Gavin hasn't driven you batshit."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "You lived with him longer than I have," he said. "And you're still friends with him."

"Well, yeah," Geoff admitted. "But when I lived with him, it wasn't preventing me from getting laid. I feel like that would bring out the worst in any friendship."

Michael took a long drink from his beer. He burped.

Gavin slid back into the seat beside him, reaching across Michael to grab his own neglected drink. His body heat felt hot and heavy against Michael's side. Gavin reached down, briefly, and squeezed Michael's thigh under the table. It was a little handsier than they typically let themselves get in public, but no one could see it, and Gavin's inhibitions hadn't been lowered to the point where he was openly making out with Michael or coming on to him, so Michael allowed it to happen. It did make his heart beat faster, though. He couldn't tell if it was from the thrill of potentially getting caught, or if it was from the anticipation of what the touch promised for how the rest of Michael's night was going to go.

 

* * *

 

One night, Michael and Gavin were lounging in bed, Michael on his phone, and Gavin on his laptop. Michael was vaguely horny and was thinking maybe he'd put his phone aside and ask Gavin if he wanted to fuck. Gavin wasn't doing anything important, just watching some show on netflix that Michael wasn't paying enough attention to in order to identify.

"Yeah, he's on my list," Gavin said, out of nowhere.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Gavin turned to glance at him. "My list of dudes that I'd do," he said.

That was such typical Gavin fare. Michael sighed with exasperation.

And then Gavin asked, his voice quiet, "Who's on your list?"

Michael stared at him in stunned silence for a long moment. He felt anger stir up in him, though he wasn't quite sure why. "I don't fucking have a list, Gavin. I'm not—I'm not gay, or bisexual, or whatever. I don't like men."

"But—"

"The only reason I'm fucking you is because you're my only option right now," Michael said. "It's like... being in prison. Straight guys fuck other guys in prison, because it's either that, or not getting any."

"You're not—you're not into it?" Gavin's voice sounded weird.

Michael shrugged. "I mean, it's better than my own hand," he said.

"But I thought you were—"

"—That I was what, Gavin? That your ass turned me gay?" Michael's lip curled.

Gavin's eyes went hard and cold. He threw open the sheets and swung his legs over the side of the mattress. Then he grabbed his laptop and phone, picked up the bundle of blankets that served as bedding for the couch, glared at Michael, and stormed out of the bedroom. He slammed the door behind him, the force of it rattling the framed poster on Michael's wall.

Michael almost called out to him, almost apologized, but he was still too angry. The rage simmered in the pit of his stomach as he sprawled out on the bed, staring at the closed door. He didn't understand why the conversation had made him so mad—or for that matter, why it had bothered Gavin so much— but right now, he didn't give a fuck.

That night, he slept like shit. When he woke up and stumbled out to make coffee, Gavin was sitting up on the couch, refusing to acknowledge him.

They drove to work in silence. Gavin stared out the window the whole time. He didn't glance at Michael once. Not that Michael was counting.

 

* * *

 

For the first time in their marriage, they brought their personal drama to work. Every video they were in together, they either ignored each other or constantly snapped at each other, and not in a way that made for entertaining content. Geoff and the others did what they could to play it off as a joke, making fun of the moods that Michael and Gavin were in, but the humor largely fell flat. It was too obvious that something really was going on between them.

Michael left the office as soon as he could, leaving Gavin to get a ride home with someone else. When he arrived back at his apartment, the first thing he saw was the couch with a mess of unmade blankets on it, and Gavin's clothes a mess on the living room floor. Michael kicked at them as he walked past toward his bedroom.

Gavin showed up late that night. If anything, he was even _angrier_ at Michael, glowering at him as soon as he walked into the apartment. Geoff had probably tried to interrogate him. Michael wondered what the fuck Gavin had told him. _"Yeah, Geoff, everything's tippy top! I'm just absolutely_ livid _at Michael because he's not gay_."

Michael went to bed alone again. He hated how empty the bed felt. It had never felt like that _before_ he'd invited Gavin into it.

He felt stress and tension building in his body, and his initial reaction was to jerk off, but as soon as he got his hand around his cock, he thought about Gavin sleeping on the couch just outside of the room, and his dick went soft.

Then he rolled over and buried his face in his pillow and wanted to yell or punch something. Or, failing that, maybe cry.

He did none of those things.

When his alarm went off, he couldn't remember having fallen asleep. He dragged himself out of bed, and somehow got himself into the shower and dressed, and then he and Gavin were in the car together again, and it was just like yesterday, only somehow even worse.

They filmed two videos before Geoff pulled off his headphones, tossed them onto the desk, folded his arms, and said, "Okay, that's it. What's going on between the two of you?"

Michael and Gavin both refused to look at each other and stared down at the floor, keeping their mouths shut.

"Fine. If you won't talk about it with me, then I'm going to lock you both in a room until you work it out with each other, because this shit isn't going to fly. You can be mad at each other off-camera all you want, but this is just goddamn unprofessional!"

Geoff practically strong-armed them both into an empty conference room, then walked out and closed the door behind him, staring pointedly at them through the window.

For a long time, neither Michael nor Gavin said anything.

Then Michael just sighed and pulled back one of the chairs and took a seat. He faced away from the window, not wanting Geoff to see his expressions or attempt to read his lips or whatever. The truth was, Michael's anger over this was all for show. In reality, he was really just fucking _sad_.

"Fuck," Michael said. He took a breath. "Okay, spill: why are you mad at me?"

"You don't know?" Gavin said, frustrated.

"No, I don't, Gavin!" Michael looked over at him. "I really, truly don't know!" He crossed his arms, tight. "One night, I'm just lying in bed, and you falsely assume that I'm gay, and I tell you that I'm not, and then you storm out of the room and don't speak to me for two whole fucking days!"

"That's not what—bloody happened!" Gavin nearly shouted.

"Oh? Then please enlighten me," Michael grit out.

Gavin glared at him. "I just went through this whole sodding crisis, and found out that I'm—" he made a strangled noise, "—and then just when I think that you're the only person who could possibly know what I'm going through, you flip out on me for even suggesting it!"

"You found out that you're _what_ , Gavin?"

"It's not any easier for _me_ to say it, Michael!" Gavin's voice got abruptly quieter.

"Say what?"

"That I'm gay! Or bisexual, maybe. I like dick," Gavin looked absolutely miserable as he sat at that table, staring up at Michael.

Michael laughed. He couldn't help it. "You only just figured that out?" he said. "You've had a fixation on cum the entire time I've known you."

Gavin looked actually hurt at his reaction, and Michael abruptly realized that maybe they weren't at a point where he could make jokes about this yet.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Michael said. "I'm sorry I was a dick to you. I just—" He let out a breath. He couldn't finish the sentence.

Gavin seemed to know what he'd meant to say, anyway. He nodded. "It did sting a little," he said. "That you compared being with me to being in prison."

"I know, I'm an asshole, I'm sorry," Michael said. "The truth is, the sex has been really, really great, actually. And I miss it, and I miss you." He felt his face flush red, and he really hoped it wasn't visible in the lighting.

"I've missed you, too," Gavin mumbled. He, too, was blushing.

"Also, it's okay that you're bisexual," Michael said. "That doesn't change anything between us."

"Even if I like dudes more than I like women?" Gavin asked, softly. "Because I think maybe I do."

"Then after all of this is over, some dude will be lucky to have you," Michael said, grinning. He stood up and held out his arms. "Now, come here. Let's prove to Geoff that we made up."

Gavin made a noise that sounded almost like a sob, and then he was wrapping his arms around Michael, his face tucked into Michael's neck.

Michael closed his eyes. "I'd kiss you right now, but Geoff is almost certainly watching us through the window, so it'll have to wait. But I'll make it up to you when we get home, okay?"

He felt Gavin nod against his shoulder.

Michael made a weak, last-ditch attempt to turn it into a kind of bro-hug, clapping Gavin on the back, then they parted. He cleared his throat. Gavin smirked at him, but was also clearly struggling with the transition between the closeness they displayed in private, and the friendly distance they had to display in public.

Michael opened the door and stepped out of the conference room, Gavin following after him. Sure enough, Geoff was standing there, waiting. He looked pleased.

"So, you've finally worked things out, I take it?" he asked.

"Yeah," Michael said. He turned and grinned at Gavin, who grinned back at him.

And just like that, their onscreen dynamic was back to their regular chemistry. Everyone else in the Achievement Hunter room seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief.

 

* * *

 

For the whole drive back to the apartment, Gavin stared at Michael. Michael could feel the soft weight of his gaze as he drove.

"It was hard, not telling Geoff," Gavin said. "I felt like I needed to talk to _someone_ about it, y'know?"

"Do you _want_ to tell Geoff about us?" Michael asked. A cold rush of fear echoed through him at the thought, but he didn't voice it, not wanting to start another fight so soon after they'd made up.

"No," Gavin said. "He'll just tell us it's a bad idea and then make fun of us. I just—when I couldn't talk to you, I thought I'd go crazy. I was trapped in my own brain!"

"That's a fate I'd wish on no one," Michael said, laughing.

Gavin reached over and prodded him in the side, and Michael responded by taking one hand off of the wheel and prodding him back. Gavin made a sound when Michael's finger made contact, and Michael realized how much he'd missed provoking Gavin into making stupid noises.

Finally, Michael pulled into the parking lot and turned off the car. There was a moment where it felt like the whole universe exhaled. Then Michael looked at Gavin, and Gavin was still looking at him, and just like that, their lips were together, and they were kissing.

Afterwards, Michael sort of had to remember how to breathe again. He gathered his phone and his keys, reached over and ruffled Gavin's hair, then opened the door and stepped out of the car.

They made it all the way up to Michael's apartment and into the living room before they were kissing again. This was a full-bodied, open-mouthed kiss, soft and heated, full of promises and apologies.

"I'm gonna try something, okay?" Michael asked, pulling away a little.

"Yeah?" Gavin said, waiting.

As Gavin stared at him, Michael crawled off of the couch and dropped down to his knees.

Gavin let out a weak noise that was somewhat between a gasp and a squeak.

"Is this okay?" Michael asked, needing the confirmation.

Gavin vigorously nodded, his eyes very wide.

Michael had no idea what he was doing, but he was also determined not to chicken out, so he pushed past his nerves and reached to undo Gavin's fly.

And _fuck_ , that was a dick; it was Gavin's dick, and it was half hard and about two inches away from Michael's face. Michael took a moment to get adjusted to this fact. He reminded himself that he'd put far grosser things in his mouth before. Then he leaned closer and gave the head an experimental lick.

Gavin, predictably, reacted audibly even just to that small touch.

Michael took the tip of the dick into his mouth, running his tongue over it. It felt and tasted bizarre.

A hand carded through his hair. He could feel Gavin struggling to resist the urge to thrust his hips and writhe and yell. Michael appreciated his restraint. He showed his appreciation by taking the dick a bit deeper into his mouth.

Too deep, it turned out. He pulled off hastily, choking a little. He went back to licking and sucking the outside of it, wrapping his hand around the base so that he was giving the whole length of it attention.

Above him, he could hear Gavin already losing it, moaning and babbling.

Michael curled his lips around the tip again, giving it another shot. He glanced up and met Gavin's eyes. Then he tasted something new as the dick spurted a little into his mouth. Michael chased the taste with his tongue, dropping his gaze from Gavin's face. He squeezed with his hand and sucked gently at the head of the cock.

"Michael," Gavin whimpered. "I'm gonna—" He cried out, and Michael took a shot of cum straight down his throat.

He swallowed it hard, choking down the salty, unpleasant taste. Another spurt of cum followed, and he swallowed that, too.

Then he pulled back, letting the cock fall out of his mouth. He licked his lips a bit, trying out the flavor. It wasn't a good one. He glanced up, and Gavin was staring down at him, eyes wide, face flushed. Michael reached over and tucked Gavin's cock back into his underwear, then redid Gavin's pants. He stood up.

Immediately, Gavin pulled him down into a kiss. Michael hummed into it.

They broke apart, though Gavin's arms were still wrapped around Michael.

"I told you I'd make it up to you," Michael said.

Gavin made a choked sound, and Michael realized that Gavin's cheeks were wet.

"Hey, are you okay?" Michael asked, concerned.

"Yeah, shut up," Gavin mumbled. "It's just been a long day, with a lot of emotions."

"Maybe it wasn't the best time for a surprise blowjob," Michael realized.

Gavin let out a wheezing laugh. "No, that was top," he said, wiping the tears off of his face. "I'm just surprised that you wanted to do it."

"Well, I realized that your dick wouldn't even make the top five most disgusting things I've had in my mouth just during my time at Rooster Teeth, so I thought, _fuck it, why not?_ "

Michael disentangled himself from Gavin and stood up. He walked into the kitchen and got out a pan, then opened the fridge to look at their options for dinner. As he started preparing the meal, he watched Gavin gradually clean up the mess of blankets and clothes around the couch area. Then Gavin went into the bedroom, and he started picking up his things in there as well. Michael was genuinely touched that he was actually making an effort.

They had dinner. Afterward, Gavin got up and started doing the dishes, completely unprompted. Michael stared at him, shocked. Then he just shook his head, and walked over to the now-clean couch and turned on the TV.

After twenty minutes or so, Gavin joined him on the couch.

"Thanks," Michael said.

"For what?" Gavin asked.

"For finally cleaning your shit up, and for doing the dishes."

Gavin shrugged. "I mean, I live here, don't I?" he said.

Michael looked at him, incredulous. "I'm glad that finally sunk in for you," he said. He gently shoved at Gavin, and Gavin just smiled and shoved at him back.

When it was time to go to bed, Michael got up to take a shower. He'd already taken one that morning, but he wanted to thoroughly clean himself before getting into bed. When he emerged from the bathroom, Gavin was smoothing down a set of fresh sheets. He looked up at Michael with an unguarded look. Then he walked past Michael and into the bathroom, and a minute later, Michael heard the shower start up again.

He shrugged, dropped his towel, then climbed into bed naked.

Yeah, he knew he was getting laid tonight.

The bathroom door opened, and Gavin walked into the room completely nude. Michael's heart started pounding when he saw him.

They found each other at the center of the bed, kissing and groping each other.

Gavin pulled away to fumble for the lube.

"Hey, do you want to try it differently today?" Michael asked.

Gavin stopped. "What?" he asked, not understanding.

"Do you want to fuck me instead? I want to see what it's like. It always makes you lose your goddamn mind." Michael smirked up at him. He spread his legs suggestively, his cock curling toward his chest.

"But I just finished cleaning out my arse for you!" Gavin protested.

"And I just cleaned mine out, too," Michael said, laughing. "C'mon, we can go back to doing it the other way tomorrow. I just want to know if it's as good for me as it is for you."

"Okay," Gavin said, softly.

They re-positioned themselves so that Michael lay with his ass at the foot of the bed, towel underneath him, Gavin standing over him.

Michael watched with interest as Gavin doused his finger with lube, then pressed it experimentally into Michael's ass.

"Fuck, that's cold," Michael said, wincing.

"Sorry, sorry!" Gavin said.

He wiggled his finger in deeper. It didn't feel bad, but it didn't feel exactly _good_ , either. It was just kind of a weird sensation.

"Is it supposed to feel like I'm shitting it out?" Michael asked.

Gavin made a frustrated sound, which Michael took as a _no_. Then he moved his finger some more, and _oh,_ _that's different_. Gavin saw his reaction and grinned, searching for the spot again. As Gavin stimulated his prostate, Michael's ass started to relax. Soon, Gavin had two fingers inside of him, then three. The stretch was just on the good side of not hurting.

Even so, Michael had started to go soft. He grabbed his own dick and pumped it as Gavin opened him up. "I'm ready, Gav," Michael said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Go ahead and stick it in me."

Michael felt the tip of a cock touch his asshole. He let out a slow breath as the rest of the cock followed after, sliding inside of him.

"Okay?" Gavin asked, uncertain.

Michael nodded. He felt so full, there was a tinge of pain there, but he was also turned on enough that he didn't want to stop.

Gavin thrust into him and made a strangled noise. On the second thrust, his dick found the sweet spot, and Michael suddenly abruptly understood why gay guys did this. "Fuck, _fuck_!" he said, moaning.

Gavin stopped moving. He stared down, his eyes wide and panicked, and he started to pull out.

"The fuck are you doing?" Michael snapped. "Keep going!" He wrapped his legs around Gavin, squeezing him closer.

Gavin started thrusting again. He leaned down and pressed his lips against Michael's, kissing him messily as he thrust into him. One of his hands went to Michael's dick, pushing Michael's own hand away.

Michael had never felt this much sensation in his goddamn life. He was almost overwhelmed by it. There was pleasure building in his ass, pleasure building in his dick, and just the pleasure from Gavin's mouth on his lips, on his neck.

He couldn't even get any words out. Nothing besides a moan and a few heavy breaths. Gavin swallowed down the moan Michael made as he came, then he thrust a few more times into Michael's spent body, and shot his load into Michael's ass.

Michael felt the towel slide out from underneath him. He weakly lifted his body to help. He felt the towel, still moist from his shower, dab at his chest, then his cock, and finally his ass. Then Gavin lay down next to him.

"Was it good?" Gavin asked, shyly.

Michael thought about it. He nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I see why you like doing it so much. Though it's—it's a lot."

Gavin hummed. His hand reached over, and just for a moment, he curled his fingers around Michael's hand. He let go, then sat up. Michael got up, too.

They both crawled back under the covers. Michael felt so relieved to have Gavin back in his bed that he wasn't quite ready to let go of him. So he didn't. For the first time, Michael was the big spoon, and his arms were wrapped around Gavin instead of Gavin clinging to Michael with his octopus limbs.

On some level, Michael had realized that even though he wasn't much of a cuddler himself, Gavin definitely was. Gavin would probably never admit it out loud, or ask for it directly, but he needed this. And on some, rare days, Michael needed it, too.

Michael fell asleep quickly, his two sleepless nights catching up to him fast.

He slept better than he had in years.

 

* * *

 

When he woke up, he was still tangled up with Gavin, and both of them were hard, but Michael didn't actually feel any real urgency about it for once. He checked his clock and saw that they had plenty of time before they had to be up and getting ready for work.

He could tell by Gavin's breathing pattern that he was also awake, although his eyes were still closed.

"You can have the first shower, if you want," Michael mumbled.

"Better idea: how about we _share_ the first shower?" Gavin murmured.

Michael's dick liked that idea. Michael's dick like that idea _a lot_.

It took some maneuvering, getting two adult men to fit comfortably in Michael's shower. It was a tighter fit than Michael was used to. He'd never had shower sex before, so he hadn't been sure what to expect.

He turned the faucet on, then Gavin's lips were on his, mouth tasting like mint toothpaste, his kisses sleepy and wet. They kissed lazily for a while, letting the room heat up. Then Michael broke away from Gavin to get some soap on his hands, and started to lather up his body. He could feel Gavin's eyes following his hands, lingering on his chest, on his cock.

Gavin pulled Michael in for a kiss, and Michael reached for Gavin's cock with soapy hands. Gavin took him in hand, too. The soap greatly facilitated the process.

It was just a handjob, but it was a nice, slow handjob, and there was a lot of skin contact. Michael came on Gavin's thigh, then leaned against Gavin for a moment when his legs got weak, his hand still pumping Gavin's cock. Gavin came with a muffled cry, and Michael supported him, and for a minute or so, they just held onto each other, letting the water run over their bodies.

Then they switched places, and Michael rinsed off the soap and the cum while Gavin applied soap to his own body. Michael covered Gavin's back for him, then, after a moment of hesitation, put shampoo on his hands and rubbed it into Gavin's hair.

Gavin sighed at his touch. He looked so blissed out, Michael kept his fingers in Gavin's hair longer than he really needed to.

Afterward, they got dressed, and then Michael made breakfast. It wasn't much, just eggs and bacon, but Gavin was uncharacteristically grateful, and he responded by making Michael a latte _and_ doing all of the dishes.

By the time they arrived at work, both of them were smiling, and Michael knew that it was going to be a good day.

Geoff did a double-take when he saw them. "What the fuck happened between yesterday evening and today?" he asked, confused by the complete mood-shift.

 _Um, five orgasms?_ Michael thought, adding them up. He, of course, didn't say this to Geoff. Instead, he simply shrugged, hoping that Geoff wouldn't press for more details. He didn't.

Later, though, when Michael was looking around for Gavin so that they could go grab lunch together with Lindsay, Geoff pulled him aside. "Hey, can I talk with you for a moment?" Geoff asked.

"Sure. Though let me find Gavin first so that I can tell him I'll meet him there," Michael said.

"Oh, well, he's probably talking to Burnie," Geoff said, awkwardly.

Ah. So this was an ambush.

"What's going on?" Michael asked, confused.

"After the past two days, we were worried about you guys," Geoff confessed. "This marriage—you don't have to keep it up. If we have to, we can find another way to get Gavin his green card. I just wanted you to know that, at any point, you can call this whole thing off."

"It's fine," Michael said. "Really, it's fine. We worked it out. I don't want to call it off."

"Are you sure?" Geoff asked. "Gavin wouldn't tell me what your fight was about, but he was really upset over it. If that continues—"

"It won't," Michael interrupted. "I was just being an asshole. And if I ever _do_ seriously hurt him—" he struggled with the wording of the next part of his sentence, trying to phrase it properly. "Then you can fire me, or beat me up, or—yknow. You can take his side."

Geoff looked at him weird, a little taken aback by the forcefulness of his words. "I don't think that'll be necessary," Geoff said, finally.

Michael hoped it wouldn't be, either. He didn't want to lose his friendship with Gavin, and, if he was honest, he didn't want to lose their marriage, either. Not yet. He'd gotten too used to it. They could call it off once they got so sick of each other that all they did was bitch at each other.

He ran into Gavin on the way out of Burnie's office.

"Did Geoff give you the talk?" Gavin asked, wryly.

"Yep," Michael said.

"What did you tell him?"

"That I don't want to call it off," Michael said, leaving out the rest.

"That's what I told Burnie, too," Gavin said. He smiled at Michael. "I like being married to you," he said.

"Yeah, it's really not half-bad," Michael said, putting enough affection into the words that Gavin would know that he returned the sentiment.

At that point, Lindsay wandered over and joined them, so they both shut up about it.

 

* * *

 

After that week, things stabilized somewhat.

And then Michael got the call from his mom.

It was a fairly standard call; she simply wanted to arrange plans for Christmas, but it ended up creating a bit of a dilemma. Because Michael did want to go back home for Christmas, but then there was the question of what to do about Gavin, since people's real spouses genuinely accompanied them over the holidays, which meant that they could only really pick one family to spend time with: Michael's or Gavin's.

"You should go see your mum," Gavin said.

"You don't mind tagging along and missing out on seeing your own mom?" Michael asked.

Gavin shook his head. "I like Denise," he said. "And your other family that I've met."

Michael sighed. "Some of my relatives are shittier than others." He thought about some of his more conservative relatives that he'd doubtlessly see over Christmas. "Fuck," he said, rubbing his face. "Some of them are homophobes."

"I don't have to come, if you don't want to deal with that," Gavin said softly.

"No, we need this in case they try and claim our marriage was invalid," Michael said. "And I don't trust some of my extended family with the truth. We'll just have to pretend to be _real_ married."

"Even if they think that you're, um..." Gavin tiptoed around the word like he was walking on eggshells.

"Fuck it," Michael said. "If they'll disown me because they think I'm gay, then they're not worth it anyway."

"Yeah?" Gavin asked.

"Yeah," Michael decided. They were going to do this. He reached for his phone, then called his mom back.

 

* * *

 

Several weeks later, Gavin and Michael took a plane to New Jersey.

Michael felt weirdly nervous as he walked up to the front door, Gavin at his side.

Denise greeted him as he entered, giving him a warm hug. She just looked at Gavin, her smile thin as she welcomed him into her home. Michael had told her their plan. She hadn't liked it.

"The two of you can stay in your room, Michael," Denise said. "I'd offer Gavin his own bed, but—"

"No, it's better this way," Michael interrupted.

He showed Gavin to the room, his heart pounding in his throat. As soon as it was just the two of them again, he relaxed a bit, setting his bag down beside the bed, then taking a seat next to it.

Gavin sat on the other side of the bed. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Michael said. "It's just—it's _weird_ , y'know?"

"Yeah," Gavin said.

"Also, we're not fucking in this bed," Michael said, turning toward Gavin with a serious expression on his face. "It'd be too weird. My mom is two doors down the hall."

Gavin shrugged. "We can go three nights without fucking," he said.

Michael looked at him, one eyebrow quirked. "Can we, Gavin? Can we?" he asked.

Gavin just shot him a grin.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the evening passed quietly. They wouldn't be seeing any of Michael's extended family members until Christmas Eve, which was tomorrow, so Michael mostly just spent time with his mother and brother. And Gavin. They all got along well enough with Gavin, and Michael's brother and his partner knew the truth about their marriage and tried their best to make Gavin feel welcome and included, though Denise still acted somewhat cold toward him.

Later, after they'd gone to bed, Gavin asked Michael about it.

They were both fully dressed, and kept their distance from each other in the bed, though it was only a full size bed, so Michael could still feel Gavin's warmth.

"Does your mum hate me?" Gavin asked, lying on his side, facing Michael.

"No," Michael said. "She just... wanted something different for me."

"Like, a woman?"

"No. Well, maybe, yeah. She wants grandkids. But more than that, she wanted me to marry somebody because I loved them, not because I was helping a friend cheat U.S. immigration laws."

Gavin was quiet for a long moment. "Do you regret it?" he asked, finally.

Michael looked at him. "No," he said. "You're my best friend, Gav. I'd do whatever I can to help you keep your dream job. Plus, you're a good lay, so there isn't really a downside."

Gavin laughed. He scooted a little closer, then a little more. Then his hand found Michael's face, and his lips followed after.

Michael kissed him back for a minute, then pulled away. "Gavin..." he said, in a warning voice.

"It's just a kiss," Gavin protested. "We're capable of showing _some_ restraint." He laid his head on the pillow beside Michael, his arm thrown over him.

 _Are we, though?_ Michael asked, silently. This entire friends-with-benefits situation they'd somehow gotten themselves into had unfolded completely out of a mutual lack of restraint. But Michael didn't wriggle out of Gavin's grasp or shove him away. If they couldn't have sex, having at least _some_ amount of physical contact was nice.

Michael woke up with a hard-on. He could tell by Gavin's resentful glower that he had one, too.

"It's what cold showers are for, Gav," Michael said as he dug through his bag to put together an outfit for the day.

"But it's also what husbands are for," Gavin grumbled. But he didn't press, and he didn't complain, and when he eventually made his way downstairs, his mood was much better.

Denise made them all breakfast, which Michael always looked forward to. She'd taught him everything he knew about cooking. To his surprise, Gavin volunteered to do the dishes afterward. Well, more accurately, he volunteered himself _and Michael_ to do them. Michael had already planned on helping clean up, but he supposed that at least this way, Gavin could perhaps win over some of Denise's begrudging respect for taking the initiative.

"She's going to get the completely wrong idea about you," Michael said, as they stood side-by-side in the kitchen, scrubbing plates.

"I help!" Gavin protested.

"Sometimes," Michael clarified. "And only recently."

"But I've gotten better, haven't I?" Gavin asked.

"Yes," Michael said. "You went from doing fuck all to help around the house to cleaning up your shit when I ask you to, and doing the dishes maybe twice a week. Maybe after we've been married for four years, you'll have progressed to doing the dishes five times a week, and cleaning the bathroom once a month."

"I do all of the washing now," Gavin pointed out.

"Yes. You do do the laundry," Michael said. "Thank god you're not completely useless."

Just as they were finishing up the dishes, the doorbell rung. And with that, it officially begun.

 

* * *

 

Michael inwardly squirmed every time he said the word _husband_. And it was a lot. It was a lot of times.

_This is my husband Gavin._

He saw all of the hard looks, the tightening of lips, the slightly flared nostrils. Each time, Michael wanted to walk outside and find a ditch to curl up in and die.

Gavin stood a little closer to him than usual, and was a little more affectionately physical with him than usual, but other than that, they basically just acted how they usually did.

Some of Michael's relatives went out of their way to be exaggeratedly accepting, and in some sense, those encounters were even worse than the other ones.

Michael could only take so much of it. After a few hours, he made his way up to his room. Gavin joined him there a minute later, slipping in and closing the door quietly behind him.

"You're on edge," Gavin said.

"I just don't like lying to people. Especially people that I care about."

Gavin sat down next to him. "We've been lying to people at work pretty much this whole time."

"Yeah, but that's different."

"Why?"

"At work, what they don't know is that we're banging. Here, they _know_ that we're banging, but they think we're banging because we're in love."

Gavin fidgeted, like he wanted to say or do something, but couldn't quite decide if it was the right thing to do at the time.

"But how are you holding up?" Michael asked, after there was a moment of silence.

Gavin shrugged. "Right as rain," he said. It was in his acting voice, but Michael didn't challenge it. He was certain that if there was a _real_ problem, he'd know. And if in the meantime, Gavin was willing to put on a brave face so that Michael could focus on dealing with his own shit, he'd take it.

 

* * *

 

As usual, Michael's cocktail of negative emotions all eventually bubbled over into his old standby: anger. After his years of Rage Quit, and his years of deliberately feeding his anger and giving it a nudge while he was at work, it had become easier and easier to just lean into his rage and let his other emotions take a backseat for a while.

And so, as the night dragged on, Michael's feelings toward the displays of homophobia he was experiencing gradually coalesced into one great, big, familiar bubble of anger. On some level, he relished it. He was very, very good at being angry.

He started deliberately touching Gavin more, and sitting closer to him on the couch. Gavin, for his part, seemed delighted, and only egged him on.

When it came time to open gifts, Gavin handed Michael one from him, and Michael opened it, and as per usual, it was strikingly well-thought-out, and Michael was so genuinely happy, he just followed his impulse and leaned over and kissed Gavin. It was just a quick, simple kiss, barely more than a peck, but that's when the shitstorm started.

As soon as their lips touched, someone made a scandalized noise.

Another person made a comment about how he was okay with gay people, but he'd rather not expose his young son to that, so if possible, could they refrain from showing any public forms of affection while family was present?

Michael saw red.

Afterward, he stood in the kitchen and received a stern talking-to from Denise that every other person in the house could almost certainly overhear. But Michael didn't give a fuck. He didn't regret it. It was a confrontation that had been a long time coming, and he said as much.

"If they're not okay with gay people, then they can get the fuck out of the house!" Michael snapped. "That's _their_ problem, not mine."

"It's _Christmas_ , Michael," Denise said, weary.

"Yeah, and isn't that supposed to be the time to love your family, or some shit?" Michael said. "I don't see a lot of love happening out there!" He gestured in the direction of the living room.

"I thought that—" Denise started. She lowered her voice. "I thought that—you and Gavin, it wasn't real!"

"It shouldn't fucking matter!" Michael yelled. "We're family. That means we're supposed to fucking love each other _unconditionally_! Whether I'm gay, straight, bi or whatever, it shouldn't make one fucking shit lick of a difference!"

When Denise didn't have anything to say to that, Michael stormed out of the kitchen. He nearly ran into a handful of his relatives in the foyer, who were on their way out. Michael flipped them off, then stomped up to his room and closed the door forcefully behind him. He didn't slam it, not wanting to act any more like a petulant teenager than he already was. He collapsed onto the bed, lying facedown.

A few minutes later, the door opened. Michael didn't have to turn his face to look in order to know that it was Gavin.

"I'm sorry," Gavin said. His weight sunk onto the side of the bed.

"You don't have to fucking apologize," Michael mumbled. "S'not your fault. I just come from a family of assholes."

"Eh, your brother's not so bad," Gavin said. "He let me hide out in his room with him while all of that went down."

"He can be an asshole, too, when he wants to be, but I'm glad the two of you get along," Michael said. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

After talking to Denise, his anger had burned itself out of his system. Without it, he felt raw, like his emotions were all scraped up.

"What do you need from me, right now?" Gavin asked. "I can leave, if you want. Or I can—"

"Please stay," Michael said. He hated the sudden vulnerability in his voice, the catch in his words. He knew that if he said anything else, he'd start crying. So he stopped talking. He sat up, but didn't look at Gavin, facing the opposite wall.

Gavin stood up. Wordlessly, he walked around the bed, then sat next to Michael. After a moment, Gavin reached out and hesitantly wrapped an arm around him. Michael resisted for a handful of seconds, then succumbed to the pull of gravity and let his head fall on Gavin's shoulder. Gavin twisted, and his other arm came up around Michael.

There was a prickling feeling in Michael's eyes. " _Fuck_ ," he said.

Then, for several minutes, he shook in Gavin's arms and cried.

Afterward, Gavin just held him and stroked his hair, and the whole thing just felt so intimate and so far beyond anything else they'd done, Michael felt his face heat up with shame. But he didn't pull away, and Gavin didn't say anything about it.

Eventually, Michael's tears dried, and the two of them separated. There was a wet patch on Gavin's shoulder where Michael's face had rested, but Gavin didn't seem to care.

They both changed into their pajamas, and then Gavin walked out of the room to go to the bathroom. When he came back, he kissed Michael, then climbed into bed.

Michael went to the bathroom. He stared at his own reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. He looked like shit. But it's not like anyone else besides Gavin would be seeing him tonight, and Gavin had already seen worse.

When he returned to the bedroom, he turned off the light, then crawled into bed. Immediately, he shifted closer to Gavin, not bothering with any pretense for it. He settled against Gavin's back, arm thrown over him, and Gavin made a pleased sound.

They were still tangled together when Michael woke up. Michael wasn't even hard, and he didn't want to get out of bed.

"Happy Christmas," Gavin murmured.

" _Merry_ Christmas," Michael said back.

Gavin giggled. He turned in Michael's arms so that he was lying on his back. "We should go downstairs," Gavin said, looking up at him. "You still need to open your other present from me."

"In a bit," Michael said, softly.

He wasn't ready to face the rest of the world yet. All of the family members that were still in the house were the non-assholes, but even so, Michael didn't want to fucking look at them. And he didn't want them to fucking look at him and Gavin. It was a neat little conundrum he'd gotten himself into, this was.

He felt a touch on his arm. He followed it with his eyes and found Gavin tracing his tattoos with the tip of his finger.

"Y'know," Michael said, "That other gift of yours better not be your dick in a box."

Gavin laughed. "I said I'd be a good boy, didn't I? I'm saving my dick for when we get home."

"Just one more night," Michael said, mostly as a reminder to himself.

Reluctantly, he sat up.

He smelled food cooking and glanced at his phone to check the time. It was definitely a late morning for them. If he and Gavin didn't get up soon, they were going to miss breakfast.

They went downstairs together.

Everyone at the table turned and looked at them as they entered the room. There were two spots left at the table, one next to the other. Michael and Gavin took them. Then conversation resumed, and Michael felt himself relax, even if only by degree.

By the time breakfast was over, Michael almost felt like things were back to normal. He and Gavin slipped into the kitchen to do the dishes, and when they were the only people in the room, Gavin leaned over and kissed him. Denise walked in just after they'd parted, but she said nothing, so presumably she'd missed it.

Compared to Christmas Eve, Christmas day was quiet. They opened the rest of the presents after breakfast, and Gavin's other present for Michael was just as thoughtful as the first one had been, though Michael didn't kiss him, this time. He wanted to, though.

For the first time since they'd arrived in New Jersey, Michael actually enjoyed the time he spent with his family. He was finally able to relax and just have a good time, without having to worry about dealing with his asshole relatives. He hoped Gavin was having an okay time, too, even though he surely would've rather spent time with his own family instead of Michael's.

Michael and Gavin went to bed early. Their flight left at the asscrack of dawn, and by the time they were in bed, they were already barely pushing five hours of sleep.

Michael felt simultaneously exhausted and restless. He could tell that Gavin felt it, too, constantly shifting and turning in bed.

"Next time, we can go visit your family," Michael said.

"Next time?" Gavin asked.

Michael shrugged. "There's bound to be a next time," he said.

"I don't think I could be as brave as you," Gavin said.

"Brave about what?"

"The way you were to your shitty relatives." Gavin was on his side, facing Michael. "You just—you faced them head on. It was bloody brilliant. I'd just let mine walk all over me. I don't even—I don't think I could let them know about me. I'd just lie about it and they'd know something was off, but they wouldn't say it, because they wouldn't want to fight, and it would—It would just be _miserable_."

"Want me to yell at them for you?" Michael asked, laughing. "Because I'd fucking do it. I'd hop on a plane to England just to throw down with some stodgy British fucks."

"If I ever come out, I want you to be there," Gavin said. "Then after I say it, I can hide behind you like a little bitch and let you take care of it."

"Okay, deal," Michael said.

"Really?" Gavin asked, his voice soft.

"Yeah, of course I'd do that for you, stupid," Michael grinned. "Though, I'm not as brave as you think."

"Seemed pretty brave to me," Gavin said.

Michael looked at him. Then he turned onto his back, sending his gaze up at the ceiling instead. "Well, I wasn't so brave afterward, was I?" he said. After how embarrassed he'd been over it the night before, he couldn't believe he was bringing up how he'd fallen apart in Gavin's arms. They didn't talk about that stuff. They talked about fucking, they argued over chores, they discussed video games, and movies, and TV shows, but they didn't talk about feelings.

"Hey," Gavin said, "You've seen me cry loads of times during sex."

"That's different," Michael said. "Lots of people cry during sex. It's all those endorphins and shit."

"Yeah, well, lots of people cry after having difficult conversations with their family."

Michael said nothing to that, his gaze fixed on some point beyond the confines of the room.

He felt Gavin shift beside him, and then Gavin's hand felt under the covers until he found Michael's hand. Gavin clutched it gently, and Michael allowed it, though he didn't clutch Gavin's hand back. Gavin stroked his skin with his thumb, moving it in a gentle rhythm.

Eventually, Gavin's hand stilled, and soon after, his breathing slowed down to a familiar pattern, and Michael knew that he'd fallen asleep.

Michael lay awake for a while after. He didn't move his hand out from under Gavin's.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, while Gavin got ready, Denise helped Michael load their bags into the car.

"He really does mean a lot to you, doesn't he?" Denise asked. She grunted as she pushed Gavin's bag aside, making room for Michael's.

"Gavin?" Michael asked. "I mean, yeah, of course he does. He's my best friend, and I'd do just about anything for him. I wouldn't've married him if he wasn't."

Denise gave him a look that Michael was unable to decipher.

But it was at that point that Gavin came downstairs, his hair sticking up at odd angles. Michael heaved his bag into the back of the car, then closed the trunk.

They all piled into the car. The drive to the airport was quiet, largely because Michael and Gavin were half-asleep.

Denise got out of the car to give Michael a hug. He closed his eyes and wrapped her in his arms, knowing it would probably be months before he saw her again.

They let go of each other. Then, to Michael's surprise, Denise turned around and embraced Gavin. "Y'know, when it's all said and done, he could've done a lot worse," Denise said to him. "Take care of each other."

"Will do, Mrs. Jones," Gavin said. Grinning, he reached out and pulled Michael into a sort of half hug.

They said their goodbyes. Then Michael and Gavin walked into the airport. Hours later, they walked out of the airport in Austin, both exhausted. They made it back to their apartment, and the first thing both of them did was crawl into bed to take a nap.

 

* * *

 

Michael woke up to the sound of his own stomach growling. Pretty much the last thing he felt like doing was cooking.

"Wanna just get takeout?" Gavin asked.

They got takeout. Michael drove, but Gavin came along and paid for it. They ate it at their little dining table, and Michael thought, _it feels good to be home_.

"It's good to be home," Gavin said. "I like your mum and brother and all, but Christmas was _exhausting_."

"Yeah," Michael said, staring at him from across the table.

Gavin caught his eye. "We should take a shower," he said.

"Yeah," Michael breathed.

Gavin stood up, and Michael stepped close to him. Then Michael leaned in and bridged the gap between them, and he was pressing little kisses on Gavin's mouth that worked their way up to bigger kisses as the two of them slowly backed into the bathroom. They paused to shed their clothes, then Michael was pressing Gavin against the wall of the shower, and Gavin let out a gasp as the cold tile touched his bare back. He twined his arms around Michael and pulled their bodies toward each other, his hard cock jutting up into Michael's stomach as his lips moved over Michael's lips, then down Michael's neck.

Michael lost track of time as they kissed and groped each other, the seconds trickling away down the drain with the water.

Finally, he took a breath and pushed Gavin away. "Okay, as good as this is, I really want to fuck you right now, and I want to do that in a bed."

Gavin stole one more dirty, filthy kiss from him. Then he stepped back, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

They soaped themselves up. Gavin did Michael's hair for him, and when his fingers massaged Michael's head, it was the best goddamn feeling Michael had ever felt in his entire life. Then Gavin's hands moved down, and he put soap on Michael's back, and his hands went down further to briefly cup Michael's ass, and then his arm wrapped around Michael and he gave Michael's cock a few quick tugs.

"Gavin," Michael grit out in warning.

Gavin just laughed, pressing his forehead to Michael's back for a moment. Then he withdrew his hands and let Michael move to get under the spray of water.

Finally, both of them were clean and mostly dry. They stumbled into the bedroom together and tipped over onto the bed.

Immediately, Gavin was on his back with his legs spread, already reaching for Michael. Michael fumbled with the cap on the lube for a bit, then he jammed his finger up Gavin's ass and watched Gavin's back arch up from the bed in response.

Because he couldn't resist, Michael leaned down and took the tip of Gavin's dick in his mouth as his finger fucked Gavin open.

Gavin let out a cry. "Michael, Michael, you can't just _do_ that, I'm gonna— _Michael_!"

Michael pulled off and out of him with a laugh, staring down at Gavin's flushed face. He crawled forward and kissed Gavin, and Gavin's arms came up around him and held him there in place for a moment. Then Michael sat up, reached for his cock, and plunged it into Gavin's ass.

Gavin stared up at him and met his eyes as they fucked. He reached up with his hands, and Michael reached out and took them, threading their fingers together. They found an easy rhythm together as Michael thrust down and Gavin thrust up to receive him.

It didn't take long before both of them came. The orgasm washed over Michael in a rush of intensity, and there was a moment when he could get why Gavin cried when they did this. Some part of him just felt so tender and open, exposed. He lay there half on top of Gavin and stoked Gavin's hair and felt Gavin's tears drying on his skin.

"That might've been the best time yet," Gavin said, his voice rough.

"Yeah," Michael said. He didn't know why, but somehow, fucking Gavin just kept getting better and better. They'd tried some kinkier things, and some of it worked for them, and some of it didn't, but then they'd have a relatively vanilla night like this, and it would be some of the best sex Michael had ever had in his life. He didn't get it.

They cleaned up, then returned to bed. It wasn't late enough to go to sleep, and thanks to their nap, neither of them were really tired enough to sleep yet, anyway.

Gavin got up and grabbed his laptop. He opened up Netflix. Michael scooted closer to him. Gavin clicked play, then wrapped an arm around Michael and leaned into him.

Michael didn't remember falling asleep. It happened maybe three episodes in. But when he woke up, he found that they'd switched positions, and he was clutching Gavin instead of the other way around.

That day, the two of them were pretty much the only people in the office. They filmed a couple videos together, just their usual standard messing around, and it was some of the most fun Michael had had at work in a long time.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, just about everyone at Rooster Teeth was gathered together for New Years. Michael and Gavin were both absolutely wasted. And every last brain cell of Michael's was dedicated to keeping his hands and lips away from Gavin. He tried just physically staying away from him, but that didn't work. They just kept gravitating toward each other.

Some part of him worried about Gavin saying something to him that would be absolutely incriminating, but then again, drunk Gavin said stupid dumbass gay shit all the time, and everyone always just chalked it up to the alcohol.

Sure enough, when it was just the two of them standing in a corner, Gavin said, loudly, "I'd suck your cock, Michael. I wanna see what it tastes like."

"Shh!" Michael clamped a hand over Gavin's mouth. "Shut up before you embarrass yourself," he said.

Gavin licked the palm of his hand. Michael withdrew it hastily.

Ray, Barbara, and Lindsay were all staring at Gavin and guffawing. Michael just rolled his eyes and stepped away. "I'm gonna get another drink," he said.

When he came back, the others had wandered out of earshot, and Gavin was just standing there alone, looking a little forlorn. "I mean it," he said, quieter. "I want to do it."

"Yeah, well, keep it to yourself, okay?" Michael said.

Gavin nodded. After a minute, he wandered off, and Michael let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

Time passed. Michael continued to get drunker about at the rate he was sobering up. Soon, they were at ten minutes to the new year, and some of the couples had sort of begun pairing off. Michael subconsciously searched for Gavin, even while knowing that standing next to him right now was just going to make things worse.

When they had a minute left, Gavin found him. He wove through the crowds toward Michael, a drink in each hand. "Brought you some," Gavin said, handing off one of the glasses. Michael set down his empty glass and took the offered champagne flute.

The countdown hit thirty seconds, and Michael glanced at Gavin, and caught Gavin glancing at him.

He stood and stared at Gavin while a pit of deep, aching loneliness carved itself out of him.

He wished they were at home so that he could kiss Gavin. But he didn’t want to be home, he wanted to be exactly where he was, at this party, with an unknown quantity of champagne inside of him, only he wanted to be here with his hands on Gavin’s face, his lips on Gavin’s mouth, while the stupid fucking ball dropped and the fireworks launched and the whole city of Austin lit up with cheers.

A roar of sound washed over Michael, and he blinked, and he realized that he'd missed it. He'd been too busy staring at Gavin and feeling a weird, deep melancholy that he'd missed that exact moment the clock had ticked over to a new year.

Gavin held out his glass toward Michael, and Michael stared down at it dumbly for a moment, then lifted his own glass and clinked it against Gavin's. He took a long swig of it and felt the alcohol burn its way down his throat.

They paid for a ride back to their apartment, and as soon as they were both in the backseat, they were kissing messily, much to the driver's annoyance. The kiss was fine, but it wasn't what Michael had wanted, and it didn't fill the hollow pit inside of him.

 

* * *

 

On Valentine's Day, they filmed an episode of Minecraft. Gavin was frequently all over the place, but today, he was especially so. He kept wandering off and getting distracted, and Michael, who'd realized right away that he wasn't going to be winning the tower this time, was never one to turn down an opportunity to poke fun at Gavin. So Michael went in search of him. He found Gavin in the middle of a field, surrounded by TNT.

"Gavin, what the fuck is this?" Michael asked.

Gavin placed down three more blocks, then turned to look at him. "I made it for you," he said. "Happy Valentine's Day!" he jumped up and down.

Michael noticed, then, that the blocks of TNT had been placed in a particular shape. More specifically, they'd been placed in a rough approximation of a heart. He opened his inventory, and sure enough...

"Michael, what are you doing?" Gavin asked, as soon as he saw what Michael held in his hand. "Michael!" he protested.

Laughing, Michael walked over to the nearest TNT block holding a torch.

"Is this what I mean to you, Michael?" Gavin asked.

Michael placed the torch down, then booked it in the opposite direction.

Gavin screamed, and there was a shaking boom.

Michael turned to survey the carnage, and started laughing harder. Where the heart had been, the grassy field below it was all torn up, littered with floating dirt blocks. Gavin was dejectedly picking his way along the wreckage, hopping in and out of the craters.

"Look," Gavin said. "That rose survived the explosion!"

He was right. Off-center, in the tiny undamaged patch of grass in the middle of the craters, there was a single red rose. Michael walked over to it. Then he punched it.

Gavin made an offended noise.

Michael turned toward him, the rose in his hand. "Gavin," he started. "Happy Valentine's Day." He tossed the rose at him.

Gavin made a happy squeak and stepped forward to pick it up.

Michael just laughed and wandered off, trying to remember what the fuck he was supposed to be doing in the episode.

Later, after the Tower of Pimps had been awarded and the video was just about to come to an end, Michael watched, in real life, as Gavin quietly killed his capture. He didn't quit Minecraft, though. He just slunk into his house, then started knocking a hole into the wall.

Gavin carved out a tiny nook, just one by two blocks deep, and planted the rose there. He put a sign above the rose that read: "G + M." Then he covered the whole thing up with paintings. Flesh-and-blood Gavin turned around in his chair and grinned at Michael.

Maybe in a few weeks, a few months, one of the others would find the rose in a future episode, and then they'd all make fun of Gavin, and the whole thing would just become yet another joke with delayed payoff, but for now, Michael kind of liked having it as a little, stupid, secret that was just between the two of them.

While they were setting up to film the next video, Michael's phone buzzed with a notification. He glanced down at it and saw that Gavin had tagged him in a tweet: "Happy Valentine's to my boi @AH_Michael," along with a heart emoji.

Michael glanced at the chair next to his, but Gavin was paying attention to what was on his monitor, his phone resting on his desk. Michael looked back at his phone, and typed out a winking emoji and a kissing emoji and then hit send.

He saw Gavin's phone light up with the notification. Gavin checked it, then laughed quietly. He turned and looked at Michael with a grin.

Michael would never forget their very first meeting, which had been three years ago to this day. That sounded sappy as shit, but it was true. It had been a long, exhausting day, and then a strange British idiot had arrived, and the first thing Gavin had done was edit Rage Quit so that Michael didn't have to do it, and Michael had been so grateful for it, and he'd never told him, but he hoped that Gavin had _known_ how grateful he'd been, how much it had meant to him.

And so, every year, on Valentine's Day, the anniversary of their friendship, Michael tweeted at him, and Gavin tweeted back. This was not going to be the year that Michael broke tradition. Especially since Gavin was the only person he had plans with later that evening. Valentine's Day was _their_ day. And no matter what else happened in their lives, it always would be.

 

* * *

 

A dinner and a superhero movie at the Alamo Drafthouse wasn't exactly the most romantic activity, but the theater sure was packed with couples that night. Michael felt kind of weird as he and Gavin settled in for the movie. They were sandwiched between two pairs of high schoolers who were obviously here on a romantic outing. The high schoolers held hands and leaned into each other throughout the film. Obnoxious. At least they weren't giving each other handies, though.

Michael got distracted thinking about giving Gavin a handie.

After the movie ended, Michael and Gavin sat through the credits, then walked out of the theater together alongside all of the other stragglers. One girl's hair was very obviously mused, her clothes a little disheveled, face flushed. A few people sported brand new hickies.

Michael thought about what it would feel like to give Gavin a hickey. It was a purely theoretical thought; he knew that there was no way in hell they'd be able to get away with it without arousing attention at work, and even if their coworkers didn't give them shit over it, it would show up on camera, and then the _fans_ would speculate, and that was even worse. He wondered if Gavin was even into hickies, anyway. Some people weren't.

"What are you thinking about?" Gavin asked.

They'd reached the car, at this point. Michael realized he'd just been staring dumbly at the car door without unlocking it.

"Nothing," he said. He unlocked the doors, then climbed into the driver seat.

They talked about the movie as they drove home. As far as Marvel superhero films went, this one had been fairly lackluster. Michael was already forgetting the details.

When they arrived home, Michael took off his jacket and hung it up. He could feel Gavin's eyes on him, and there was kind of a weird energy in the room. Once again, Michael knew with absolute certainty that he was getting laid tonight, but to his surprise, he found himself wishing that there was... a little more build-up to it? Something more than just a popcorn flick and a lackluster pizza in a room full of horny teenagers. He'd never really cared about Valentine's Day before, so he didn't really know what to do with the feeling.

He quickly forgot about it as he and Gavin sunk down onto the couch, hands already reaching under clothes.

Then Gavin sat up, leaning a bit away from him. "Michael?" he said.

"Yeah?" Michael breathed.

"Can I suck your cock?"

To most people, Michael's answer to that question would've been an instant and resounding _fuck yes_. But he'd seen Gavin's gag reflex in action on many, _many_ occasions.

"No," Michael said. "The only thing that could ruin blowjobs for me forever would be seeing you vomit on my dick."

Gavin made a face. "I won't vom!" he said.

"Gavin, you gag at the thought of wet bread."

"Yeah, but your cock is way more appealing than wet bread!"

"Still, no," Michael said. "I'd rather just fuck."

Gavin sighed, but gave up on it. A few minutes later, he'd all but forgotten Michael's rejection, bouncing up and down on Michael's lap as he rode Michael's cock and let out a litany of swears.

Afterward, during the cooldown, they held each other and kissed lazily on the couch. When Michael started to get cold lying there bare-ass on the couch, they relocated to the shower, and then to the bed.

As they lay there, Gavin said, "I sort of wish we had some chocolate."

Michael chuckled. "We can buy some tomorrow when everything's on sale and it's all cheap as shit."

"Yeah?" Gavin asked.

"Sure. Fuck it," Michael said.

The next day, they bought way more candy than two people could reasonably consume, and then Gavin goaded Michael into eating way too much of it, and he spent the next night in digestive misery, his stomach aching. Gavin had to fend for himself for dinner, that night. He did what he could to help Michael recover, though he didn't seem repentant about the role he'd played in encouraging Michael's condition.

 

* * *

 

Near the end of February, Gavin brought a bad cold back with him from England. The first night, he tried to go sleep on the couch, dragging a blanket cape across the floor behind him.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Michael asked, his voice raspy with exhaustion.

"Trying not to get you sick," Gavin said. His cough turned into a sneeze part of the way through, and the expression on his face afterward was absolutely miserable.

"You don't have to sleep in the living room," Michael said. "If I get sick, then I get sick."

Gavin came back to bed, defeated. He lay as far away from Michael as physically possible, nearly hanging over the edge of the mattress.

"It'll pass soon," Michael said, rolling over to go to sleep.

It didn't.

For two days, Michael took care of him, fixing him soup, making him lattes, letting him monopolize the TV.

Then, just as Gavin's health finally started taking a turn for the better, Michael caught the bug, and for a few woozy days, both of them were out for the count. Geoff brought them dinner on the second night. Michael wouldn't let him come into the apartment.

"We're under quarantine, Geoff," he said.

"Okay, geez, if it's really that bad, I'll stay away," Geoff said.

Michael thanked him for the food, then put it in the fridge and crawled back into bed.

For whatever reason, the cold hit Michael harder than it had hit Gavin. Soon, Gavin was up and about again, while Michael was more or less still bedridden.

"Fuck," Michael croaked, after a particularly bad coughing fit, his throat raw and sore.

Gavin brought him a glass of water and cough drops. Later, Gavin brought him a bowl of pasta.

"What's this?" Michael asked.

"Dinner," Gavin said, pushing a napkin and a fork into his hands next.

"Where'd it come from?" Michael asked, not recognizing the leftovers.

"I made it," Gavin said.

"You?" Michael asked. "Really?"

"Yes," Gavin said, slightly annoyed.

Michael looked at him. "Thanks," he said.

Gavin sat down with him while he ate the pasta. Then he took the empty bowl from Michael and carried it into the kitchen. Shortly afterward, Michael heard the dishwasher start up. He lay back down and went to sleep.

It took two weeks before both of them had more or less recovered. It was the longest they'd gone without fucking.

 

* * *

 

One night, Barbara invited them to a party on Friday night. It sounded fun, and normally Michael would've said yes, but then he realized the date she'd mentioned.

“Nope, I can’t come," he said. "Me and Gavin are going to be celebrating surviving one year of marriage.”

“Oh, right, it’s your _anniversary_ ,” she laughed. “Are you going to go out and get blackout drunk like you did last year?”

“Something like that,” Michael said.

In all honesty, they had a dinner reservation at a nice restaurant. Michael had picked the place and had planned the whole thing, and in return, Gavin already said he’s paying. They didn’t go out to eat often at actual real restaurants, so Michael was anticipating it with genuine excitement.

He also hoped that they wouldn’t get drunk. Drunken sex with Gavin was fun, but it wasn’t particularly coordinated, and it was never as good as sober sex. And call him sentimental, but Michael was kind of looking forward to getting fucked on the anniversary of his wedding. Especially since they hadn’t gotten to fuck on the actual day.

"Before we go home, there's something else I want to do," Gavin said. It was just past 5pm, and they were in Michael's car in the Rooster Teeth parking lot.

"Okay, what is it?" Michael asked.

"Your anniversary present," Gavin said.

"Wait, you got—what did you get me?" Michael asked.

"It's a surprise," Gavin said. He typed something into his phone. Michael caught a glimpse of the GPS on his screen before Gavin hid it.

"Take a left when you pull out of the parking lot," Gavin said.

Michael always hated letting Gavin navigate for him, because Gavin understood fuck all about driving and gave terrible instructions, but tonight Michael humored him. He had absolutely no idea where Gavin was taking him. None whatsoever. He was even more confused when Gavin pointed at an unfamiliar building and said, "Park there."

They got out of the car. Michael glanced up at the sign on the building, then glanced back at Gavin, and said, "What the fuck?"

"Happy anniversary, Michael! I'm buying you a new mattress!"

"Alright," Michael said, shaking his head. He walked through the door, and just kind of stared numbly at all of the beds set up around him. Whatever he'd been expecting Gavin to get him, this wasn't it. "I guess it is about time I bought a new mattress, anyway," he said. He'd been putting it off because he didn't wanted to drop the several hundred dollars it was inevitably going to cost him.

A store employee came over to assist them, and he showed no sign of recognizing them from youtube, thank god.

Michael let the guy lead him over to the higher end mattresses, figuring he'd try them out even though there was no way he'd be getting one. He lay down on the first one, and Gavin flopped onto the bed beside him.

"This is nice," Michael said.

"Mmm," Gavin said, staring at him from across the expanse of mattress.

They tried all of the priciest mattresses, then moved on to the slightly shittier ones.

"What kind of budget do you have in mind for this, anyway?" Michael asked as he lay down.

"Budget?" Gavin said, scoffing. "I'm going to buy whichever one you like best."

Michael sat up abruptly. "But some of them are 3000 fucking dollars!" he said.

"Yeah, and you spend a third of your life sleeping, so I say it's worth shelling out for the good stuff," Gavin said, staring up at the ceiling, arms spread wide.

Almost against his will, Michael went back to the really fancy mattresses. He collapsed onto the first one he'd tried, just letting himself really sink into it. It was a really, _really_ good mattress.

"Is this your favorite?" Gavin asked, flopping down beside him.

"I think so."

Gavin grinned at him. "Mine, too," he said.

They bought the $3000 mattress. Michael stared at Gavin in disbelief as Gavin nonchalantly paid for it.

As they drove back to the apartment, Michael said, "You had an ulterior motive, didn't you? You get to benefit from this, too."

"You'll thank me for it later," Gavin said.

"I'm thanking you for it _now_ ," Michael said. "That was—I think that's the most expensive present anyone has ever gotten me. That's one hell of an anniversary gift, Gavin." He felt bad, then, that he hadn't even considered getting Gavin a present. Not even a silly, joking one. His plans for the evening had just been dinner and a fuck. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Yeah, well, it's nothing after what you've done for me," Gavin said. "Michael, you—you saved my career, and the life I've built here. And you uprooted everything in your life to do it. I'm just—I'm so bloody _grateful_ —"

Michael turned to look at him. "Hey," he said. "You don't owe me anything, okay? This marriage—whatever it is, it isn't a _debt_."

"I know," Gavin said quietly. "It's just—" he made a sound and trailed off. "Thanks," he said, finally.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, they were sitting in a fancy restaurant waiting for their food.

Their waitress arrived, bearing two fucking _delectable_ looking plates of food. Michael's mouth watered as she placed his steak in front of him.

"Holy shit, this was the best idea we've had in months," Michael said, staring down at it.

Gavin was grinning, his gaze more on Michael than on his own food. He picked up his wine glass and held it out, "To beating Kim Kardashian," Gavin said.

"That sounds like you're saying we beat her up," Michael laughed. But he clinked his glass against Gavin's, then took a sip.

Gavin drank, then set his glass down, his expression turning contemplative. "How many 72's fit into a year?" he asked. As soon as he asked it, he reached for his phone, knowing full well that with an audience of Michael, the question was rhetorical. "Five times seventy-two is 360. We lasted five times longer than Kim Kardashian," he said, proud.

"And we're still going strong," Michael said. "If we last another year, that'll be ten times longer than Kim Kardashian."

"Here's to another year, then?" Gavin asked, almost coy.

"Sure. Why not. Here's to another year."

They clinked glasses again, then both descended into giggles, despite not being even slightly tipsy. It was just, _god_ , the good food and the wine and the fucking mattress waiting for them at home—it was a good day. Michael was just really fucking happy to be here right now.

After finishing dinner, they stayed for desert. Gavin paid for the entire meal, then they walked back to the car, and Michael drove them back to the apartment. The drive back was quiet, but not in a bad way. It felt comfortable.

"How do you want to do it tonight?" Gavin asked, once they were back in the apartment.

"You can top," Michael said. "It's been a while."

"Okay," Gavin said.

Michael went to take a shower.

When he emerged, there was that brand new mattress in his bedroom, dressed in new sheets, and Gavin was sprawled out on it and staring up at Michael, naked. The lights were on, but not the ceiling light, lending a soft glow to the room.

Michael sunk down onto the bed, moving on top of Gavin. They kissed slow and deep. Then Michael moved down and kissed Gavin's cock. He sucked it lazily for a couple minutes, listening to Gavin make soft little cries. Michael pulled off before it went too far. Gavin was looking down at him as he let Gavin's dick fall out of his mouth, and he looked more turned on than Michael had ever seen him look before, his skin flushed and pupils dilated.

"Can I try sucking you off, Michael?" Gavin asked. "Please?" he whimpered.

"No," Michael said.

"I promise I won't throw up," Gavin said.

"No," Michael repeated.

Gavin gave a frustrated sigh. "Fine. Then can I put my mouth somewhere else?" he asked.

"Okay," Michael said, dumbly.

"Lie down. On your stomach," Gavin said.

Michael complied. A few seconds later, he felt Gavin's hands on his ass, spreading his cheeks, and then something warm and soft and wet plunged into him.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Michael gasped, burying his face in the pillow.

That was Gavin's _tongue_. Inside Michael's ass, fucking him open.

"Holy shit." Michael's words were muffled by the pillow he was definitely drooling all over.

Gavin withdrew, and Michael let out a whine.

"Good?" Gavin asked, sounding insufferably pleased with himself.

"Yes, you little bitch," Michael said into the pillow. "This is so much fucking better than fingers. If I did it to you, you'd lose your goddamn mind."

Gavin laughed, breathless. Michael felt him lean forward, but all Gavin did was press a kiss to his lower back. Then Gavin's hands were on Michael, turning him over.

"Can I...?" Gavin asked.

"Fuck me? Yes, please," Michael said, spreading his legs.

"I was going to ask if I could kiss you," Gavin said.

Michael looked up at him blankly. "Um, yes?" he said. "I thought that was a given?"

"Even though my tongue was just in your arse?" Gavin said.

"My _clean_ ass," Michael specified. "You could eat off of it, baby."

"I think I just did," Gavin said. He was so taken with his own joke, he dissolved into squeaking laughter, slowly collapsing on top of Michael.

Michael just sighed and rolled his eyes, but his arms went up and wrapped around Gavin, and he held him until he stopped shaking with laughter and remembered that they were in the middle of something.

"Alright," Gavin said, sitting up. "I'm gonna fuck you now." He glanced down at Michael, then added, "Baby."

"Okay, I was using _baby_ in like a general sense. I wasn't calling you _baby_ ," Michael protested.

"Too late," Gavin said. "Baby."

Michael opened his mouth to object to the pet name, but then Gavin covered it with his own mouth, and Michael immediately stopped caring.

Then, finally, Gavin got his cock inside of Michael, and they rocked together for a few minutes, and then it was over. Gavin was giggling deliriously after he came, and Michael soon found himself laughing, too, for absolutely no goddamn reason.

For several minutes, Michael just let his body pleasantly sink into the mattress. “There’s cum seeping out of my ass right now, and I don’t even care,” he mumbled.

Gavin sat up. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s change the sheets.”

“Why?” Michael asked, feeling extremely loose and comfortable.

“Because I want our first night on the new mattress to be a really fucking good one.”

Michael stared up at him. "Okay. Fine," he said. Groaning, he sat up, then helped Gavin change the sheets.

They settled back down in a fresh bed, and Michael had to hand it to him, Gavin had been right. He was already half asleep on that mattress the moment he was under the covers. He felt Gavin wiggle closer, and Michael turned toward him, and then Gavin slid into his arms and buried his face in Michael's chest, their legs tangling together.

 

* * *

 

When Michael woke up, there was a moment where he thought he was floating. He opened his eyes and he was in his regular bedroom in his regular apartment, and Gavin was in the process of waking up right beside him. They'd drifted apart during the night. Sunlight was streaming softly in through the window, and it was a Saturday, and they had nowhere they needed to be.

"Fuck, I think that might've been the best night of sleep I've ever had in my entire life," Michael said.

"Yeah?" Gavin asked.

"Yeah. I'm so glad it's Saturday," Michael said. "I really don't want to get out of bed."

Gavin was staring at him, a kind of gentle, mindless look on his face. "Y'know, the lighting's really good right now, actually," Gavin said. "I should take a picture."

"Of what? Of _me_?" Michael asked.

"Could I?" Gavin asked. "I won't—I won't post it anywhere or anything," he said, hastily. "It's just—y'know!"

"Sure," Michael said. "Are we talking nudes, or are you hoping for, like, a tasteful boudoir shoot?"

"Dunno yet," Gavin said. "Let me get the camera." He stepped out of the room, and Michael leaned back against the pillows, waiting.

Gavin returned and started setting up the tripod. He had an odd expression on his face as he looked for the right angle for the shoot.

“It just... feels kinda weird," Gavin said, adjusting the camera. "There’s this whole period of my life that’s happening, but there’s no record of it on any of my social media. I just want to have _something_ to be able to remember this.”

“You really think you’re just going to _forget_ about it?”

“No! I just—I got used to taking loads of pictures of my life so that I can post them online, but I’ve stopped doing that now that no one can see them. But I feel like I’m going to regret that I stopped. I’m going to look back at this year and wish there wasn’t this huge blank spot there.”

“We take plenty of pictures for work,” Michael pointed out. “And when we’re out with friends.”

“Yeah, but there’s _nothing_ of us at home. It’s like we’re—it’s like we’re _afraid_ of leaving evidence behind.” Gavin glanced away from the camera to gaze at him.

“I’m not afraid of anything,” Michael said. But it was a lie, and he could tell by the look that Gavin gave him that he saw through it immediately. Michael was afraid of his friends looking at him differently. He was afraid of fans coming at him with harassment, or even with a wave of support. He was afraid of putting a name to what _they_ were, to what _he_ was.

It was better when he didn’t think about it. Didn’t try to examine it. When he just followed what his gut told him to do, and just did what he wanted to do in the moment.

"What if we made, like, private instagram accounts?" Michael suggested. "Just for us. Then you could post whatever you wanted on there, and we don't ever have to share it with anyone else unless we decide to."

Gavin stared down at him. "Okay," he said. He grinned. Then he looked back behind the camera, and the shape he had to contort himself into in order to get the angle he wanted was approaching comical. Michael started laughing. "Wait, before you take any pictures, let me get one of you," he said.

He reached for his phone, then snapped a shot of Gavin twisting himself to fit between the camera and the wall.

Later, after Gavin had taken his fill of photos—some nude, some clothed—they got up and made breakfast together. Gavin still wasn't a very competent cook, but he could follow simple instructions, and it was better than Michael doing all of the work himself.

They sat down to eat the food, then went back to lounging in bed.

Michael created a new instagram account, named it "analcrev," and set it to private. Gavin made one with the handle "tongueinyourbum," and they started following each other.

The first thing Michael posted was the photo of Gavin struggling behind the tripod. The lighting sucked, and he slapped a filter over it that would no doubt offend Gavin's sensibilities even more. He typed a caption for the image: _"I can't believe a year ago from yesterday, I married this idiot."_

He hit post. A minute later, he got a notification that "tongueinyourbum" had liked it.

Michael refreshed his feed, and he saw a picture of himself sitting up in bed, shirtless, blanket pulled up over his lap, smirking behind his phone camera as he held it up to snap a photo. The lighting was warm and soft, and Michael was momentarily stunned by it. He blinked, then scrolled down to read Gavin's caption: _"Lazy morning with the boi."_

Michael pressed the little heart icon.

 

* * *

 

Within a month, posting on Instagram became one of the highlights of Michael's week. Every time, he'd change his instagram handle to something stupid, and Gavin would change his to something equally dumb, and they'd make each other crack up at work over the phone notifications they'd get for it. They almost always replied to each other's photos, sometimes with snark, sometimes with affection.

Occasionally, one of Michael's other coworkers would ask him what he was laughing at, and he'd say it was just something he saw on twitter, or on youtube, and he'd pull up some funny video to show them instead.

At some point, it occurred to him that what he and Gavin were doing could be considered _flirting_. Shockingly, the realization didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. It felt fun and light and harmless, and where's the wrong in that?

The images themselves were always innocuous. Usually they were just shots of various everyday things from the apartment. Just little snapshots of what their life there together was like. Then, one day, while they were on lunch break, Michael got a notification that said "iwanttosuckyourdick liked your photo," and he nearly inhaled his sandwich, choking on his next bite of food. When he glanced up, Gavin was staring at him pointedly from across the room.

The last thing Gavin had posted was an artsy slow motion video of rain falling onto Michael's balcony. Michael changed his instagram handle, then replied to Gavin's post.

The notification said: "notinamillionyears commented: Someone's thirsty today."

A minute later, "iwanttosuckyourdick" replied to his comment with a winking emoji.

Less than a week later, they were filming GTA, and Gavin straight up offered—jokingly, but secretly seriously—to suck Michael's cock, and Michael just about had a heart attack. After the video was over, Michael dragged him aside, and said, "You can't just _say_ stuff like that. Not on camera."

“But—” Gavin started. It was, at that moment, that he seemed to have realized that he’d gone too far. He just closed his mouth, nodded, and went back to work.

 

* * *

 

After that, he didn’t bring it up again.

But Michael knew that this wasn’t the end of it. The more Gavin brought it up, the more stubborn both of them got over it, digging in their heels, and Michael knew that just because Gavin wasn’t talking about it didn’t mean that he wasn’t thinking about it.

Eventually, it all came to a head. Pun not intended.

They were back at the apartment. It was the end of a long day at work, and really, there were so many better times Michael could’ve chosen to have this conversation, but his general exhaustion brought all of his frustration up and out of him, and he finally asked the question that had been plaguing him for weeks.

“I don’t get it,” Michael said. “Why do you want to suck my cock that much? It’s really not that great. Tastes fucking awful.”

“ _You_ suck mine,” Gavin said.

“Yeah, well, you’ve seen the other stuff I’ve put in my mouth. I can take it.”

Gavin gave him a look. “I’ve seen you vomit loads of times!” he said.

“Only because I’ve eaten some really fucking disgusting things!” Michael said. “You throw up at merely the _thought_ of something gross. Or because you’re laughing too hard, or just, I don’t know, because it’s a Tuesday and your gag reflex hates you.”

“I won’t vomit on your dick!” Gavin said, forcefully.

“You don’t know that!” Michael said.

“Yeah, I do!” Gavin insisted. “I’ve been—I’ve been _practicing_.”

A rush of air forced itself out of Michael’s lungs. “Practicing?” he said. “With who?” He couldn’t keep the sense of betrayal out of his voice.

Gavin rolled his eyes. “Not with a—sodding _person_ , you idiot!” He stormed into the bedroom, then stormed out of it, an object in his hand.

He slapped the object up against the wall. Michael’s eyes bugged out when he saw it.

It was a suction cup dildo.

“Do you want me to show you?” Gavin said, angrily. “I’ll go down on this plastic cock right now to show you that I can do it.”

“No, you—that’s not necessary,” Michael said quietly.

“Then, if it’s not the vomit thing, what are you so afraid of?” Gavin asked.

“I’m not—I’m not _afraid_!” Michael said. “Why do you want to do it so badly?” he asked again.

Gavin straightened. He looked Michael dead in the eye, but the fight was already fading out of him.

“Because I love you,” Gavin said, his voice breaking.

And, with just those four words, Michael was instantly and utterly disarmed. Rendered dumb and mute.

Gavin took a breath. He looked away, then closed his eyes. There were tears beading down his cheek.

"Really?" Michael managed.

Gavin looked at him. He nodded, slowly. When he spoke, his voice was soft. "I love your face, I love your cock, and I love the way you laugh, and how brave you are, and how I can always depend on you. And being married to you is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me, and I never want to stop." Gavin was shaking, now, his breath hitching with tiny sobs.

" _Fuck_ ," Michael whispered.

For a long moment, he just sat on the couch as Gavin buried his face in his hands and stood across the room from him and cried.

"This marriage—" Michael started. "I’d always thought there’d come a day when I’d— _fuck_ —I’d wake up and be bored with it, or sick of you, or just not want to do it anymore, and then we could go and end it. But then that day didn’t come. And instead, I started to—“ Michael took a breath. “I started to get used to it. I got used to waking up and seeing your fucking stupid face. I got used to coming home with you."

He was terrified of the words that were coming out of his mouth, what they meant, but he knew that they were true, and that they had to be said.

"I don't know if I like guys. And trying to figure it out still scares the hell out of me. But I do know that I like _one_ guy." He stood up. "I fucking love you, too, Gavin."

He watched as Gavin slowly lifted his face out of his hands.

Then Gavin made a sound and reached out for him, and Michael closed the distance between them, pulling Gavin into his arms.

If anything, Gavin started crying _harder_. But that's okay; Michael was crying, too. He just closed his eyes and buried his face in Gavin's neck, and just let himself feel what he was feeling.

Eventually, the tears stopped for both of them. As soon as Gavin was no longer shaking in Michael's arms, Michael pulled back a little and kissed him. Gavin laughed, weakly, and kissed him back, then pressed little kisses all over his face.

"Your tears taste salty," Gavin remarked.

Michael quirked an eyebrow. "Y'know what else tastes salty?" he asked.

Gavin's eyes went wide. "You mean...?" he breathed.

"Yeah," Michael said. "Just... in a bit, okay? I'm feeling a lot of things right now, but horny isn't one of them."

Gavin grinned, nodding. He glanced down, then reached for Michael's hand, pulling him over to the couch.

Holding hands was new, for them. They'd done it once or twice while trying to put on a bit of a show for Michael's family at Christmas, but other than a few incredibly isolated incidents, that had been pretty much it. It surprised Michael how much he liked holding Gavin's hand like this. Just the two of them on the couch, in their home.

"So, does this mean that we're married for real, then?" Gavin asked, his head on Michael's shoulder.

"Fuck, Gavin, we're _married_ ," Michael said, in awe. The full weight of it had just sunk in for him. He had a _husband_.

Then Gavin squealed with a sudden laugh and sat up, and Michael glanced at him, confused.

"I just realized we had that whole entire conversation while I was standing right next to a dildo on the wall," Gavin said, pointing at it.

A wave of laughter bubbled up inside of Michael, and he just let it wash over him, laughing as Gavin stood up to unstick the dildo and return it to wherever he'd been secretly storing it.

When Gavin returned, he was blushing, and Michael felt like kissing him, so he did.

"Where do you want to suck me off?" Michael asked.

"The bed," Gavin murmured.

"Okay," Michael said. "Let's do it."

He got up and walked into the bedroom, Gavin's hand in his. They both stripped completely, then Gavin gently pushed Michael down onto the bed. He climbed up afterward, kneeling between Michael's legs, staring down at Michael with his mouth slightly open.

"Are we gonna actually do this, or are you just going to look?" Michael asked, joking.

Gavin smiled. Then, one hand already on Michael's cock, his gaze never leaving Michael's, he scooted backward and lowered his head, taking just the tip of Michael's cock ever so gently in his mouth.

Michael made a ragged noise. He leaned back against the bed while also trying to lean up into the warm and wet pressure around his cock. He felt Gavin's unoccupied fingers grasp his hand, and Gavin placed Michael's hand on the back of his head, and then he took Michael deeper.

It was the first blowjob that Gavin had ever given, and it was the first one that Michael had gotten in over a year and a half, and it was the best sex he'd ever had in his life.

Gavin took his time with it, and Michael just rode it out with Gavin's hair threaded between his fingers.

But no good thing lasted forever.

"I'm gonna come," Michael said, his voice wrecked.

Gavin pulled off, his breath misting on Michael's wet dick. "I know," he murmured. "I want you to. I want to taste it." He reached out with his tongue and licked Michael, then took the head of Michael's cock back into his mouth and gave it all of his attention.

When Michael came, Gavin's eyes were locked on his, and Gavin's name was on his tongue.

Distantly, he was aware of Gavin coughing. But then he felt a pair of lips against the patch of skin right above his dick, then against his stomach, then his chest, then his collarbone, then his neck, and then finally his mouth.

Michael kissed him back, pulling Gavin close. He felt both their hearts beating against each other. He also felt tears on his cheek, and for once, they weren't Gavin's.

"Fuck, I love you," Michael said. "I'm sorry it took me so long to realize that."

"I bet you're also sorry you waited so long to let me blow you," Gavin murmured, sounding insufferably pleased with himself.

"No. Not even a little," Michael said. "Because it got you to practice, and it meant that when you finally did do it, you were actually good at it."

"Really?" Gavin asked. "I was?"

"Yes. Tippy top. Best blowjob I've ever gotten."

"I liked it, too, you know," Gavin said. And Michael did know. He could feel how hard Gavin was, just from having Michael's cock in his mouth.

"Want me to suck you off?" Michael asked.

Gavin considered it. "If I go and take a shower, will you rim me?" he asked.

"Fuck yeah, I will," Michael said.

Gavin slid off of him and walked into the bathroom.

For a moment, Michael just lay there and let himself marinate in his emotions. Then he reached for his phone, typed and deleted at least three different drafts of extremely sappy tweets, then set his phone down before he posted something that he regretted.

Later, after Gavin returned from his shower, and after he came so hard from Michael's tongue up his ass and Michael's hand on his cock that he full-on _whimpered_ , Michael fixed dinner, and then they ended up on the couch for a while, then back in bed.

That night, Michael went on instagram and, for the first time, posted a picture of the two of them kissing. He'd set his camera on a timer to take it, and it was the most fucking artistic photo on his entire goddamn account. The two of them were almost silhouetted against the window to the balcony, lit entirely by the ambient light of the world outside of the apartment. Even on the private account, it still took him several drafts before he decided on a caption:

" _I'm glad it was me."_

He posted it with the handle "gavsboi."

Gavin posted a photo that night, too. His new handle was "michaelsboi," and the photo was a shot of him taking a deep swig of milk from a glass. He just captioned it: " _Finally._ "

"You fucker," Michael said fondly, shaking his head. But he hit the _heart_ button, then commented, " _I can't believe I love you_."

 

* * *

 

It was a while yet before Michael could even start to think about going public with it. Or even just telling their friends.

Gavin, for all of his general lack of patience, didn’t press him, though Michael could tell that keeping it a secret wore on him. It wore on Michael, too. Sometimes he felt he was going stir crazy with it.

One day, after a two-pronged attack from Lindsay and Geoff about Michael’s and Gavin’s (separate) dating lives, both Michael and Gavin were feeling exceptionally frustrated, but were unable to express the nature of their frustration to any of their friends, and so all they could do was bring it home with them.

“I wish we could just come out with it without, y’know, _coming out_ ,” Gavin said, pacing in the living room.

“God, yeah, I know.” Michael tipped his head back against the couch.

He’d thought about how the conversation might go. Different ways they could bring it up. Methods of dropping the bomb. But after they came out to their friends, they’d have to eventually do it _again_ to the public, or risk it getting out on its own anyways when some fuck inevitably photographed them out on a date or something.

“At least you’ve already come out to your family,” Gavin said. “I still have _that_ to look forward to, too.”

“Fuck, I did come out to them, didn’t I?” Michael said. “I thought I was faking it, but it wasn’t.”

Gavin gave him a sad smile, like he’d known this whole time there’d been more truth in that confrontation than Michael had been willing to admit, but he didn’t rub it in. Michael found that he actually admired Gavin’s chill and fortitude about his sexuality crisis, and he wished he had that same level of chill about his own.

“Maybe we should just… go big or go home,” Michael said. “Just rip off the whole fucking band aid. Then we’ll only have to do it once.”

“Yeah?” Gavin asked, intrigued. He stopped pacing.

And then Michael had the idea. He sat forward on the couch. “Hey, Gav, would it make it better if, when we came out, it made a whole shitload of money?”

Judging by the mad grin that Gavin was wearing, he’d caught on to what Michael was suggesting.

 

* * *

 

A month later, it was the annual Extra Life stream. As hour 20 arrived, Michael and Gavin were both on stream, as well as the rest of Achievement Hunter, and everyone was half delirious with exhaustion and excitement.

They’d already surpassed their goal, and had smashed the stretch goals after it, and the donations had started winding down.

Then Michael looked at Gavin, and Gavin looked at him and nodded, just once, and Michael stood up and said:

“If we hit $600,000, I’ll kiss Gavin. And not just a peck on the lips. A _proper_ kiss, with tongue and shit. I’ll fucking make out with him.”

Gavin laughed. “Alright,” he said, his eyes sparkling.

“Hey, wait—” Burnie started, sounding suddenly alarmed. "You don't have to do that, I mean—"

"Shut the fuck up, Burnie, we're just trying to give the people what they want," Michael said, grinning.

And he was right. The people _did_ want it. Judging by the sudden spike in donations, they wanted it _a lot_. It made Michael feel both good and resentful to see just how much people wanted him and Gavin to kiss.

Burnie made a last-ditch attempt to save Michael from what he seemed to think was a spectacularly unwise decision. "Okay, we can't guarantee we'll honor any promises made under the influence of alcohol," Burnie said to the camera.

"I'm not drunk, Burnie," Michael said. "Gav's not, either. We're doing this for the kids."

The donations continued to tick up and up. Michael felt a kind of anxious, giddy anticipation steadily build up inside of him as they got nearer and nearer to the $600,000 mark. He could feel Gavin practically vibrating with energy on the couch beside him.

They hit $599,500. Then $599,750. Then $599,900. Then, finally, $600,000.

"Alright, let's do this," Michael said. He stood up.

Gavin stood up after him. They were standing very close together.

Gavin had a big, stupid smile on his face. "Ready?" he asked.

"Since the day I was born, baby," Michael said.

Then he reached out, curled his hands around Gavin's face, and brought their mouths together.

Gavin melted into it immediately, his lips parting to let Michael in. His eyes fluttered closed, and Michael closed his, too, not thinking about the cameras, about their coworkers, about all of the thousands of strangers who were watching this unfold live.

This kiss was not a lie. In it, Michael poured all of his love for Gavin, all of the familiarity and camaraderie they'd established with each other. It was the most honest and bare he'd ever been on camera.

They separated, slowly. Michael's face felt warm. But he was smiling, and Gavin was smiling, and even though they had to face the real world now, in the end, Michael knew that it was going to be okay.

Geoff's jaw was pretty much on the ground. Barbara's hands were on her mouth, her eyes very wide. Lindsay was wildly glancing between Michael and Gavin.

Then someone started clapping and laughing, and soon everyone joined in, and Michael just looked sheepishly at the camera, and then at Gavin.

After the cheers had died down, Michael stepped forward again. "Now, if we get to $625,000, I'll fucking marry him," he said. "I'm not fucking around. I'll do it."

Gavin laughed, nodding.

"Wait a minute," Burnie said. "You can't just—" his voice got very high-pitched, and he sputtered a bit. Then he went silent. He couldn't exactly call them out for this on live fucking television, so there was really nothing he could do at this point besides accept that the whole thing had gone wildly off the rails, and he just had to trust that Michael and Gavin knew what they were doing.

"We're adults. We can do whatever the fuck we want, Burnie," Michael said. "And if we get to $625,000, I want to fucking marry Gavin."

This was gonna be it. The final step in their plan. Michael had faith that the fans would come through for him, and sure enough, they did.

At $625,000, Michael and Gavin stood up and cheered.

Then Michael stepped in front of Gavin, and bent down on one knee. One of the girls in the room let out an excited scream, the sound of it strangled. Michael reached into his pocket, and fished around for the small object he'd placed there. He closed his fist around it and brought it out.

"Gavin," Michael started, "You're my best friend, and even though you're sometimes the most annoying human being alive, meeting you changed my life, and getting to be with you is the best part of this job. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

He held out Gavin's wedding band, which had been worn once on the actual day, then for three days during Christmas, and never again.

Gavin nodded. "Yes," he said, voice choked with emotion even though they'd fucking _planned_ this. "Except, there's one problem." He reached into his pocket and pulled out Michael's wedding ring. Gavin's face split into a grin. "We're already married!"

Laughing, Michael stood up. He grabbed Gavin's hand and slipped the wedding ring on his finger. Then Gavin grabbed Michael's hand and slid Michael's wedding ring on. His hands felt warm and soft around Michael's, trembling a little with nerves and adrenaline.

Michael turned toward the camera, still grasping Gavin's hand. "Yeah, so I regret to inform you that can't actually marry Gavin," he said. "On account of the fact that we're already married."

"We've been married for over a year," Gavin explained. "Secretly."

"And now, for charity, we decided to finally spill the beans," Michael said. "How's that for a fucking Extra Life goal?"

If the audience had any doubt that they were telling the truth, the absolute stunned silence in the room was a dead giveaway that this reveal was 100% genuine.

"Holy shit," Geoff said, breaking the silence. "Goddamn—you fuckers!'

His face was making all kinds of fascinating emotions. Michael could tell how badly Geoff wanted to grill them about it, but was unable to as long as there was a live camera in the room. Michael just grinned and relaxed into the couch, Gavin sinking into the cushions beside him.

"Fuck, we still have two more hours," Burnie said. He, too, was clearly burning with questions that he was similarly unable to ask. "How do we even follow that up?" he asked.

Michael shrugged loosely. He was still riding the high of it, and was very much avoiding even the thought of the conversation that was inevitably going to happen as soon as he walked out of this room, and what his social media mentions were going to look like tonight. He deliberately ignored his phone, not even glancing at it.

The two hours passed quietly, but steadily. They played some games, kept things happening. The donations continued to trickle in, though they plateaued for a bit without the excitement of the stretch goals that Michael and Gavin had offered. And then before Michael was ready, the twenty-fourth hour of the stream was almost up, and they were about ready to pack it up and end it for the year.

Right before it ended, Michael stood up. "Alright, well, it's been fun. Me and Gavin are going to head home now. To our apartment that we share, because we're married," he said.

Gavin laughed and stood up. He grabbed Michael's hand. Michael could feel the warm metal band of Gavin's wedding ring against his skin.

They didn't quite manage to make it out of the building before the crowd of people descended on them.

"Okay, what the fuck?" Burnie asked, running up to them, his voice climbing an octave.

The others were just behind him.

Lindsay shouldered through the crowd. "How long? How long has it been going on, Michael?" she demanded.

Michael shrugged. "A while," he admitted. "Can't really pin it down to an exact date."

"Well, when was the first time you kissed?" Lindsay asked.

Michael was silent. The answer to Lindsay's question was: " _right after we decided to get married_ ," but he couldn't exactly _say_ that.

Lindsay rolled her eyes. "Okay, then when did he stop sleeping on the couch?"

Michael coughed, scratching the back of his head.

"Oh my god," Geoff said. "Have the two of you been fucking behind our backs this entire time?"

"It hasn't been the _entire_ time!" Gavin protested.

Ray threw up his hands. “Aright, I’m cool with all of this, but if you’re going to talk, in detail, about fucking each other, I’m out.” He backed away.

Geoff looked like he wouldn't mind hearing about the details.

Michael had a moment where he wondered if they all knew just a little too much about each other's sex lives.

He let out a sigh. "The just of it is that Gavin and I got fake married, and then at some point we became real married, and that's all you need to know, you nosy fucks."

Most of the crowd dispersed. Geoff, Burnie, and Lindsay remained.

"Yeah, you can't get rid of us that easily," Lindsay said.

"Fine," Michael said. "I don't really want to talk about it tonight, but I can show you, I guess."

"Show us?" Geoff asked, confused.

Michael and Gavin took their phones, then gave them access to the private instagram accounts. Then, Michael stepped back and watched, weirdly apprehensively, as Geoff, Burnie and Lindsay clustered together and scrolled through the posts on both feeds.

Lindsay scrolled all the way down to the bottom of Michael's feed, first. She paused on the very first picture, of Gavin taking a photo of Michael in bed. Then she glanced over at Gavin's feed on Geoff's screen, and saw the picture of Michael from Gavin's point of view. "Oh," she said, her voice soft.

Michael blushed violently. But Gavin was the only person looking at him; the others' eyes were all on their phone screens.

Slowly, Lindsay and Geoff scrolled up. Lindsay paused again on the picture of Michael and Gavin kissing, and Michael fidgeted, extremely not wanting to be in the room right now.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Geoff asked, sounding a little hurt.

"Didn't want to have the conversation we're having right now," Michael said.

"Gavin—" Burnie started. "And Michael, too," he added, "I just, I want you to know that—" he struggled to get the words out. "We're family," he said, finally. "A weird, fucked-up family, but still family—"

"Burnie," Gavin interrupted, "I'd tell you that this conversation is turning me gay, but Michael's cock already did that."

Geoff sputtered with wheezing laughter, and Michael grabbed Gavin's arm and said, "Nope. That's it. Conversation over. We'll see you assholes tomorrow. Bye."

 

* * *

 

As soon as Michael sank down onto the couch in their apartment, he felt all of the exhaustion and the nerves and the uncertainty catch up to him all at once, and he let out a long, shuddering breath.

He composed just one tweet before completely turning off his phone: " _I'm going to sleep now. But to anyone sending their congrats, thank you, and to anyone who's offended, fuck you._ "

"Well, we did it," Michael said, turning to look at Gavin. "It's been done."

Now was the part he was really afraid of. The part where they had to face it.

But he could face it in the morning. Tonight, he would ignore his phone and crawl into bed with Gavin and bury his face in the patch of skin between Gavin's neck and shoulder, and take relief in the fact that from this point on, they didn't have to hide anymore, or lie anymore. Not to family, not to their friends, not to the public, and not to the U.S. government. Whatever this was, it was _real_.


End file.
